


Ride Until I Die

by inkyfrositng321



Category: Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Bonnie and Clyde (TV 2013), bonnie and clyde musical - Fandom
Genre: 1930s, Bank Robbery, Celebrities, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Falling In Love, Fast Cars, Gangs, Gangsters, Great Depression, Historical, Love, Love at First Sight, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyfrositng321/pseuds/inkyfrositng321
Summary: The year is 1930. The market has crashed. The glitz and glam of the roaring twenties is waning. Fast. Months later, over a pot of warming cocoa, Bonnie met Clyde.
Relationships: Clyde Barrow/Bonnie Parker
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter One

-Chapter One-

* * *

_ February 13th, 1930 _

The Great Depression is called such for a reason. It leaves everyone feeling sad and drained, like life doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t care what President Hoover says, it ain’t getting any better. This is not some little bump in America’s flourishing economy. No, this will be the event of my generation. 

What impact has the depression had on me? Well, enough for me to feel its heat but not enough to really burn me. It’s suffocating, and one of these days I’ll be all fried up. But for now, I can manage. 

I’m most worried about the effects it’s had on my best friend, Clara. Now Clara had a nice little house with a new baby and a husband. Her man used to work at a bank down the street from the diner I slave away at. When the market crashed a few months ago, her husband lost his job. After that, they couldn’t afford nothing. It got so bad that when her itty bitty baby got the measles, they couldn’t pay for a doctor. I was there when they buried her three months ago. 

Clara was inconsolable. How dare the Lord take her daughter, that’s what I thought. If there’s any God in this world, have him end this  _ now _ . It’s raging hell on these people. No one deserves to have everything they’ve ever worked for swiped out of their hands. 

After her daughter died, her husband resorted to stealing in order to feed him and his wife. Just petty shoplifting on occasion, nothing bad. But he got caught and hauled off to prison six weeks ago. 

Clara broke her arm trying to hold him back. He was arguing with the laws when they came to haul him away. She’s a real tiny thing like me, not much meat on her bones. So because she’s so small she couldn’t hold him back and fractured her arm.

Now I’m helping to take care of her in between shifts at the diner. I have never seen Clara so sad. She’s usually a lively, happy girl. Loved her family more than anything. And now they’re all gone. Delilah, her baby, is with the Lord, as she puts it. Her husband, Liam, only has a nine-month sentence, but it’s taking her to hell and back. 

“How you doin', Clara?” I say softly as I set my purse down on her kitchen table and walk over to where she’s sitting in her little rocking chair, staring at the cradle with a sheet of black cloth draped over it. 

“Fine,” she whispers.

I sigh and bend down in front of her, taking her good hand. “Tell you what, you go and meet me in the kitchen. I’ma make us some hot cocoa and we’re going to have a nice little chat. Take your mind off things.” 

I smile at her and she nods slowly. I lead her into the kitchen and she sits down at a chair as I take out the little package of hot cocoa mix from a cupboard. I put a pot of milk to boil on the stove. 

“So what’s new? Any letters from Liam?” I ask. 

She nods, a hint of a smile back on her face. “He wrote two days ago. Says he misses me.”

“Aww, how sweet.” I measure out the cocoa powder and stir it into the boiling milk. “I’m sure it is just so hard havin’ somebody you love locked up.” 

“Yeah... Any news ‘bout Roy?”

I look at her with wild, thrilled eyes. “Five-year sentence! I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout him no more!”

She laughs. “Amen, girl!”

“Husbands,” I scoff. “You got lucky. The load of men these days are despicable.”

“Are we now?” 

I look up from my pot of cocoa and meet his eyes. 

“Clyde!” Clara exclaims. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Back with the family,” the man says. He steps through the doorway. 

I study him for a moment. He’s rather small, yet he looks like he has some power. Something about his eyes is… almost frightening. He seems put together, but I can tell that isn’t always the case. He has an odd smile, handsome but almost condescending. He dresses real smart for a West Dallas man. I'm intrigued -against my better judgment.

“How do you know each other?” I ask, forgetting the cocoa for a moment. 

“Clyde and I went to school together, for a bit at least.” She stands up and hugs him. I ain’t ever see Clara with another man besides her Liam. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, I suppose.” He leans against the kitchen table and looks at me. “So who are ya _? _ ” His tone is playful. 

“Um, Bonnie Parker. Clara and I work at the diner on Main Street together.” I hold out my hand for him to shake and he does, lingering a moment. “So what do you do?”

“Things. My dad owns a little fillin’ station.”

I nod, thinking he must help out there. “So what’s your last name, Clyde?”

“Barrow. Clyde Barrow.”

The name rings a bell in my head. “I live kinda near that gas station. I’ve been there a couple ‘a times.”

“Ah. Loyal customer.” 

I chuckle. “Something like that. Clara, I should probably get back to the diner. Got a double shift today.” I hug her. “See you later.”

“Bye, Bonnie.” 

“Bye.” I stop in the doorway. “Hey, don’t get too hung up on all this, okay? We’re all gonna be alright.”

Clyde nods. “Miss Parker knows what she’s talkin’ bout, Clar’.”

I smile as I turn out of the house and back to my little car my mom bought back when we still had some money. Lucky for us, it’s all paid off. It’s a clunker though. But I don’t really mind. It gets me from point  _ A _ to point  _ B _ . I learned long ago that I don’t need all the bells and whistles. When Liam got locked up just for trying to provide for his family I realized what kind of a world we live in.

Not to say I don’t have dreams. I got loads of dreams. I’d love to have all those bells and whistles in every aspect it can be applied to, but I don’t  _ need _ them. That’s the difference. There is a fine line between  _ need _ and  _ want _ . And during the next few years, that line became so grey and fuzzy it might as well not exist at all. 

\---

Three days later when I’m tending to Clara, Clyde shows up again. I make us all a batch of cocoa and we chat and laugh. I’m really taking a liking to him. Clyde and I are completely smitten if I’m being honest. He’s handsome, smart, polite but not to the point of being obnoxious.

But I keep telling myself no. I can’t go falling in love again. Last time I did that, I got burned. More than burned. More than the stupid heat from the Depression could ever cause me. I still wear Mr. Roy Thornton’s ring. I have since I was sixteen when I married him. I like to refer to 1926 as "My Own Great Depression."

And here’s this boy who reminds me  _ so  _ much of Roy. Except for all the things that made Roy,  _ Roy  _ is gone. He ain’t mean, he seems loyal, he would never hurt me. I know that. Somehow. I think I’m just too trusting. 

I do learn something that makes me think Clyde is just a spawn of Roy himself. Clyde’s done time, but so has just about every man in "the devil’s back porch." For God’s sake, so has all of Texas. But the thing that makes Clyde stand out is that he ain’t been caught lately, even though he’s still technically wanted. That’s something my Roy could never do: get away with it.

I am wary of him after learning he’s bad and crooked. I thought maybe I had found someone good. I was wrong. My only options are to be alone or be with a con. And I can’t take that again. 

My husband had three moods. He’d either come home angry, mopey, or kinda happy. When he was angry, you best believe I was scared out of my wits. I considered myself lucky when I came out of the situation without a red handprint across my cheek. 

When he was all mopey, I knew how tonight would end… I’d make him some dinner and pretend to be all put together. And I’d hope he wouldn’t snap and lash out. He’d beg to sleep with me and I always gave in, never  _ really _ wanting to. Because he was my husband. I had to keep him content. If he wanted to be coddled, he was coddled. It was my protective force. 

Oh, but when my husband was happy! Those were the times that made me believe in love again. When he’d hug and kiss me and tell me I looked pretty I would feel so alive. And I’d remember why I loved him, why his name was inked above my knee. 

But the happy days were rare. Too rare. So rare that it felt like a birthday when they came. And I had just about had it with waiting around for a birthday. So I left. 

And I’ve seen Clara and Liam interact. It’s like a damn birthday for eternity. It was all I had ever wanted from Roy. I’d take the bad, but only if it didn’t outweigh the good. But it did. Liam was a good man, only doing wrong when he had to. 

Clyde isn’t that way. And neither was Roy.

But he’s stuck in my thoughts like tree sap. More stuck than the hopes of getting out of Dallas. More so than our debts or the unpaid bills stacking up on our kitchen counter. More than anything in my life. 

And Clara seems to notice. She brings it up, I shut her down quickly. I don’t  _ want _ to think about this Barrow boy at all. I just want to forget him, move on with my mind-numbing life. It doesn’t matter. All I need is to get through shift after shift. Bill cycle after bill cycle. 

But I’m getting restless. And it’s only a matter of time before I break down. If I have to stare at one more dusty day or red OVERDUE stamp I am going to lose my mind. I need a release, an escape. Somehow. But I have nothing. Anyone who comes to West Dallas never comes out. That’s how it is.

At first, you move her because your times are rough and it’s a "temporary financial solution." And then things start to look up and you think it ain’t gonna be so bad no more. Then something like this hits and it all goes plummeting down just like my savings. And once that happens, you’re trapped. 

_ I am so very trapped.  _

And I kinda, though I hate to admit, thought Clyde Barrow was gonna free me. Even just a little bit. I had so much hope. But no, he had to be stealing cars and all that. Why is it in every man’s head that the way to impress a lady is through your arrest warrants? Who came up with this idea?

Roy was one thing. I’m not going to play naive and say I was just young. I screwed up and I admit it. He fell into the depths of hell and dragged me down with him. Now I’m clawing my way through mud and fire to make it out again. And it ain’t easy. Not easy at all.

It’s gonna be one hell of a ride trying to make up for all my past idiot mistakes, but I’m ready for it. 

I’m gonna ride until I die. 


	2. Chapter Two

-Chapter Two-

* * *

_ February 25th, 1930  _

I sigh as I set the cup of coffee in front of the man who asked for it. He thanks me and I smile a little before turning to wipe down a counter. My fingers idly count the few bills in the cash register as my mind travels elsewhere. 

_ Lights. So many lights. Frills and lace and applause. A silver screen and popping popcorn... _

I look back at the task at hand and drop a few quarters into the drawer. I close and lock it. My mind then travels somewhere  _ else _ . Somewhere a little more closer to home. 

_ The smile, the black eyes shadowed by a tan fedora... _

I can’t help but think about that Clyde Barrow. I know it’s stupid. It’s a terrible thing. I swore to myself that I would never even utter his name again. He didn’t matter no more. It was all over. A simple crush, lasting but a few days. 

Yet here I am. 

“Bonnie?” 

The sound of my name makes me prick up from my mundane tasks and deep thinking. I look over at the counter where the customers sit and I see Ted sit down. I try to hide my disappointment. 

It’d been roughly two weeks since I’d met Clyde and about that long since I’d heard from him. I bet my marriage scared him off. Jesus, why did I mention it? The seething hate I have for Roy grows more and more intense each day, yet I can’t seem to make myself divorce him. 

I wipe my hands on my apron as I smile at Ted to be polite. “What can I getcha?” I ask. 

“Um, just a coffee.” He sets his postal hat beside him. 

“So how’ve you been?” I ask as I pour his joe. I know he likes it with a splash of cream. 

“Fine. You?”

I shrug as I hand him his mug. I think of Clyde and his cocoa. “Alright, I guess.”

“How’s your mama?”

“Just fine. She and I've been holdin’ up.”

“Good. Did you know I’m gettin’ a new job?” 

“Really?” I say through gritted teeth as I put a few glasses in a cupboard. 

“Yep. I’m working on gettin’ a job with the sheriff.”

“Ah. Congratulations.” I can’t help but feel a spike of fear. What if something happens to Clyde? What if something already has? 

I think about asking. But I don’t know if the cops know he did steal that car he talked about. If I say anything I might get him in trouble. So I stay quiet. It doesn’t concern me one bit.

“Thanks. I think it’s important that even in these desperate times we show that crime don’t pay.” 

I nod slowly and glance out the window. I could almost swear I see  _ him _ . He’s leaning against a wall across the street from the little diner. He has a cigarette pinched between his teeth and his trademark tan fedora pulled over his eyes and the same dapper clothes. He looks up, winks at me. 

“Bonnie?” 

I snap back into reality and go back to wiping down counters. 

“You okay?” Ted asks. “You seem off.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I glance out the window again, he’s gone. It’s been like this for a bit. I’ll see him, then he disappears as quickly as he came. I’m starting to think I never even met him and he’s just a figment of my imagination, a symptom of a failed marriage and dust inhalation. 

“Well, my church’s havin’ a little picnic on Sunday. You should come.” 

I bite my lip. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t think I can. I’m pickin’ up extra hours on Sunday after the service.”

“Um, alright. See you around, Bonnie.” He stands up from the counter and sets his hat on his head. 

“Yeah, see ya.” I smile slightly and he tips his hat. I watch as he walks out. 

If only I could get out of this town. I’m wasting away. I’m tired of waiting tables and putting up with Ted. I try to be polite, I really do. He just can’t take a hint. And that Clyde character! He occupies my thoughts and torments me day and night. I can’t forget him. But maybe I don’t wanna.

He’s some parasite, sucking the life out of me. He’s terrible. When I fell, I fell in spite of myself. And I find it odd just how he’s affected me. I’ve met many men before, take Ted for example. This Clyde is not my first little crush in any way, but he’s taken over me in a way even Roy didn’t. I did love Roy once, long ago. But never like how I want to love Clyde. 

And I think that’s the problem here. I have so much hope and feelings and thought and  _ time _ shoved into this idea that I have nothing left for anything else. He is a problem, for the laws and for me. I  _ need _ to stop. He’s gonna be the death of me. 

\---

“Is somethin’ on your mind, Bonnie?” Marigold asks as she flips the  _ Open _ sign over. 

“No, why?” I lie. 

“You’ve seemed like you’re distracted lately.” 

I shrug and look at my fellow waitress, Clara’s replacement. “I blame the dust.”

She chuckles. “Yeah. They don’t call this the devil’s back porch for nothin’!”

I laugh and slip the menus in their drawer. I like closing up. It means I’m free from this job for a few hours. I wipe down the counters one last time and grab my purse. 

“Bye Mar!” I say as I step out of the diner and turn to the left. 

“See ya tomorra’!” She turns right to go to her home. Her husband and two little babies wait for her there. I only have my mama and Billie, my little sister. 

I sigh as I walk through the dusty downtown West Dallas. The sun, even though it’s late February, is still a little intense. I swat away a fly and turn onto Main Street. I survey the people, going about their business. But there’s a certain coldness, a depression in their eyes. 

I drop my purse on the coffee table in my grandma’s old home. My mama’s shelling peas on the back porch. I light a cigarette and collapse in a chair beside her. She sighs and looks up. 

“I told you them Camel’s are gonna kill you someday!” she scolds. 

I glance at her. “Then let ‘em. But trust me, ain’t no cigarette killin’ Bonnie Parker.”

“Oh sure.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna be  _ some star _ , ain’t ya?”

I sigh. “I’ve given up on dreams a long time ago, Mama.”

She hands me a bowl of unshelled peas. “Why don’t you put yourself to good use?”

“Alright, alright.” I join her in the mundane task with a chuckle. 

“So how was work today?”

I shrug. “Normal and bland. Ted asked me out again.”

She smiles. “I think you should go. Ted’ll be good for you.”

“ _ Mama _ ,” I insist, “I ain’t interested in no romance.”

Not with Ted Hinton, at least.

“You need to get over Roy and chuck that stupid ring into the abyss, Bonnie.”

I glance down at it, rusted and ugly, dirty from the batter that always gets on it when I cook. “Yeah… I just can’t make myself take it off.”

“Do you still love ‘im?”

I laugh heartily. “As much as I wanna kiss the devil’s ass!” I slip my ring off and put it in my pocket. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to get rid of it. You didn’t throw out Papa’s ring.” 

She sighs. “That’s different. Your papa was a good man. And I miss him every day.”

I touch her hand. “Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m sure he woulda done the same if the roles were reversed.”

Mama nods. “I just want what’s best for you, okay? And if that means I have to set you up with that Ted kid, I’ma do it.”

“Please don’t,” I smirk. “I’m surprised he ain’t already married, to be quite honest.”

She stares at me for a moment. “There’s another man, ain’t there?”

“What?” I quickly say. 

“Ooh, there is! Tell me  _ all _ about him!”

“Mama, there ain’t nobody.” I cross my arms, forgetting the peas. “I swear on my own life that I ain’t gonna get tied up with another piece of scum again.”

“Well… don’t be too sure. And not all men are scum, you just gotta look.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a thousand times. But what right do I have to trust ‘em any more?” I pick up the bowl of shelled peas. “I’ll start dinner.”

I fix up the peas along with a small bit of bread and butter. Around the time that I’m setting the table, Billie comes home from school. I smile at her as she sets her books down on the coffee table. 

“How was it?” I ask.

She grins. “Fine. Math’s pain in the ass.”

I snicker. “Better wash that mouth before you talk to Mama like that or she’ll do it for ya.”

“I know, I know,” she giggles. “I’ma go find her.”

“Hey, ask her to come in. Dinner’s about ready.”

She nods and walks to the back porch. I bite my lip as I drop my few pennies of a tip into our family jar. I look over the stack of bills on the kitchen counter as the voices of my family float into the house. 

The electric company canceled on us weeks and weeks ago, but I don’t mind that much. Water bill’s not too bad. It’s the taxes that’s killing us. The audacity that the government has to tax us so much while we’re in this state. Kicking a dog when it’s down, real mature of you, Mr. President. 

Mama and Billie come in and my head snaps up from the papers before me. I meet Mama’s eyes and we share a knowing glance before I turn away quickly. Every time I blink, I see that red OVERDUE stamp. Every time. 

We eat our meal in peace, even though I have two impending thoughts fighting for my attention. But I  _ know _ I have to be responsible and focus on taking care of my family. 

But Clyde…

He doesn’t  _ matter! _ What will it take for me to understand that?! Do I have to rob a damn bank myself to comprehend the fact that he is so toxic and is going to ruin my life just like Roy?!

Maybe I should just go out with Ted. I could please my mama, that’s for sure. And I’ve always been a family gal. I need to put them before myself. Cause in this whole mess, I gotta be on the backburner. 

We’ll see how long I can manage that.

\---

The next day I’m back at it again. I glance in the mirror, a tired face framed by strawberry-blonde curls, stares back at me. I bite my lip as I tie my apron and pull my hair up out of my face. I snatch my purse and trudge out the door as Billie leaves for school. I tell her goodbye and we part. 

I punch in at the diner and drop my purse in the tiny kitchen next to Marigold’s and go to work. I set out salt and pepper shakers, boil water for coffee, the usual. Our first customers come in a bit later, we serve them like any other day. It’s tedious, too tedious. 

But around noon, a shady figure walks into the diner. No one pays him any mind at all. Even I don’t. Not really, at least. He sits at the very last bar stool, my jurisdiction. I grab a menu and walk over to him. 

I set the menu in front of him. “What can I getcha?”

He looks up and my breath hitches.

“Miss Parker, pleasure.” He tips his hat. 

“Um, Clyde, how… how’ve you been?” I stumble. 

My mind is on red alert. Everything is screaming that I have gotta get out of here. I’m just now making it out of hell. I don’t need to go back. But do I guard myself against the flames he throws at me? No. Of course not. Maybe I am still the stupid sixteen-year-old.

He smirks. “Sorry I couldn’t contact you.” He glances out the window.

I purse my lips. “Right… it’s okay. I didn’t expect you to.”

He nods. “What do you suggest, don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“The coffee ain’t half bad, French toast’s pretty good. Um, the eggs are  terrible though.”

“Well, I’ll have one coffee and a plate of French toast then.” 

I nod with a faint smile. “Coming right up.”

I turn on my heel and put his order in before fixing his coffee. I set his mug in front of him and quickly go back to helping other customers. He keeps his eyes on me though. 

I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. I, for some reason, feel kinda obligated to play along with him. Like I owe him something. I think it’s because I’m scared. No, not scared,  _ terrified _ . 

The idea of calling the police crosses my mind very briefly. I brush it away immediately. No, I won’t. I could never call the cops on my worst enemy. I got real close to turning Roy in a few times, when I had a bruise on my face and tears rolling down my cheeks. The phone would shake in my hand as I tried to dial the number before giving up. 

I set his French toast in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?” I ask. 

He steeples his fingers and looks at me from under the brim of his hat. It’s sort of intimidating. I raise my eyebrows. 

“Are you free Sunday?” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. 

Screw extra hours. My parasite of a crush is worth it.

“Maybe,” I say as I lean on the counter in front of him. “It depends.”

He smirks. “Alrighty then.” 

Clyde pulls out a pen and snatches a napkin from the dispenser. He scribbles something and sets a few bills on the counter with the napkin. He takes a bite of the French toast and murmurs, “Good toast,” before leaving. 

I pocket the bills quickly. Mama’ll be so happy. Then I grab the note just as quickly. My eyes scan the messy scrawl. 

_ Leave your porch light on _ .

Oh damn. 


	3. Chapter Three

-Chapter Three-

* * *

_ February 27th, 1930 _

I tap my fingers on the windowsill of my bedroom. The hot night air blows in but I don’t care. It’s well past ten. He should be here by now. I don’t know what kind of clock convicts work on, but I don’t appreciate this late hour. 

I sigh and glance down at the porch below me, the light still on. I roll my eyes and walk over to the mirror in my bedroom. I look myself over. A simple brown cotton dress with no shape, all I can afford, hugs my slim and petite figure. I rub my lips together to smear the bit of lipstick again. I hope he thinks I’m pretty. 

And then I hear the low rumble of a car engine and the gravel crunching beneath the tires. I peek out the window and gasp a little. It’s a nice car, black. Looks fancy. I sneak past my mother’s closed bedroom door and down the creaky steps. I walk out onto the porch to see him leaning against the car, a few flowers in hand. 

“Miss Parker,” he says, “pleasure.”

I smile. “Hi.”

He chuckles. “These are for you.”

“Really?” I take the flowers and my cheeks redden. He takes one and tucks it behind my ear. 

I laugh and he opens the car door for me. I glance at my mother’s bedroom window. She isn’t awake. Good. Clyde sits beside me and pulls out of my cramped driveway with skill. He’s a fine driver. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that I just sat in a  _ stolen _ car with a thief. Let’s just cross my fingers that I make it out of this alive. 

“So where might you be taking me, Mr. Barrow?” I ask nervously. 

“Please, call me Clyde.” 

I grin slightly. “Alright then,  _ Clyde _ . Where might we be off to?”

“Surprise.” 

My brows knit together. “Alright, I’m gonna trust you then.” 

He grins and drives a little faster. I grit my teeth. “You drive quite reckless, don’t you?” 

“Maybe.” He glances at me. 

I grip the seat as he slowly accelerates to full speed. I peer at the speedometer. We’re going a good 55 mph down the big and dusty road. He smiles at me. I grimace back. My stomach is doing cartwheels. I’ve never driven this fast before. I've never _been_ this fast before. The atmosphere is just a blur. The world is splitting for us. 

He suddenly turns onto a different road, swerving. I gasp. He laughs as he slows down, driving up to the downtown area of Dallas after we roll over the bridge. I giggle at how shaken up I am. The city is quite calm, not very busy. 

Clyde pulls up in front of the little movie theater closest to our stomping grounds. “Shall we?” he asks. 

I’m a little surprised. But excited. “We shall.” 

We climb out of the car and he extends his arm to me. I laugh and loop mine around his. He purchases two tickets for the picture and takes me back. The theater is almost empty, only about three other people. 

I sit beside him with a smile. I love the movies, they’re so enchanting. When I was a little girl I’d dream of being up on the big screen like Janet Gaynor or Mary Pickford. It would be so great to be all dolled up, ready to star in a moving picture. 

But dreams are just dreams and they die out. Maybe once I did have skill and ambition, acting in school plays and singing for my family. Now my ambition resides in serving pie and paying bills. 

I suppose I must be content with that. Fame is just a luxury and a bane to existence for some. Really, I’d almost rather hide in the shadows than stand out in the limelight. Standing out at school is what caught Roy Thorton’s eye. Hiding behind a diner counter caught Clyde’s. That’s the difference. 

Halfway through the feature, I feel fingers intertwine with mine. I glance down to see he’s taken my hand. I blush and give his hand a little squeeze. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it gently. 

Butterflies are fluttering around my stomach. I tell myself to calm down. I can’t be falling in love again. Last time I did that I was scorched so badly I couldn’t hardly walk for three years. I glance at my left hand, Roy’s cheesy little wedding ring he gave me still there. I look over at my right hand, tightly in Clyde’s, and pressed to his lips. I sigh. What do I think I’m doing? Who am I trying to kid? It’s sure hard to stay scared when something so good is sitting right beside you.

I turn my gaze back to the talkie,  _ Anna Christie _ . If I recall correctly, this is Greta Garbo’s first talking picture. She’s a real pretty thing, all of them are. This picture came out last week and trust me, if I had the money and the time, I most definitely would’ve gone to see it on opening night. 

When the lights are back on and the film has ended, he’s half-asleep and my head is resting on his shoulder. He hasn’t let go of my hand once. I smile. He stirs and sits up. 

“Should be you on that silver screen,” he whispers. “You’ve got the _bonny_ face, after all.”

I smile and try to quiet my racing heart. It’s as if he read my mind. Before I can stop myself, my lips are on his. I pull away quickly. 

He looks slightly surprised. “Well, I’ll be,” Clyde chuckles. 

“Um… I’m sorry- I shouldn't've-”

I’m cut off by him fitting his mouth to mine and pulling my face closer to his. I smile at the soft touch of his lips and the warmth from him cupping my cheek. I haven’t been kissed like this since… gosh, I don’t know if I ever have. 

When I pull away, it’s reluctant and slow. I really don’t want to, but I know we’re probably causing a scene. I stare at his mouth, red smeared on it. I chuckle softly as a grin plays on my lips. 

“What?” he asks. 

I rub my thumb across his lip. “You’ve got lipstick on you.”

He reddens with an amused smile. “I don’t really mind.” 

I shrug and kiss his cheek, leaving a red print. He rolls his eyes and rubs it off. “Not what I meant, Bonnie.”

“Thank you for a lovely night,” I murmur, my voice a little hoarse. 

“It was my pleasure.” He takes my other hand and pulls me to a standing position. “Now would you care for the direct or scenic route home?”

My face grows even happier. “Scenic, definitely.” 

He nods with a subtle twinkle in those handsome dark eyes and leads me out into the cool night air. When we’re back on the road, he drives slow this time, I buck up the courage to ask him what’s been nagging at me since I met him. Honestly, it’s been nagging at me since I met Roy. 

“Why do you do it?” I ask in a whisper, scared he’ll be upset. I don’t want him to get angry. I’ve made it my goal not to ever upset him. I know that I’m no good with love, but I really do want to try. 

He looks at me. “Do what, sugar?” 

I press my lips in a thin line to hide the smile. “All… this.” I gesture to the dashboard in front of me. “This crime business. What good does it bring?”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Well… I guess I never really thought much ‘bout the good. Suppose when you’ve been beaten on by the laws since you was born it just comes naturally.” 

“They… they what?” My eyebrows knit together in concern. “So you’ve been doin’ this since you was little?” 

He shakes his head. “Not particularly, no. Them cops got it in their minds that any poor folk is just makin’ trouble.”

I think of Clara, the few cans of food Liam swiped just so they wouldn’t starve. And just how brutally the cops beat on him while they took him away, and how they didn’t give a rat’s ass when Clara broke her arm in the mess. It just ain’t right.

“I suppose you’re right.” I look away from him, out the window at the stars. The big Texas sky seemed almost comforting, like it could warm me up in this blanket of celestial glow and moondust and everything would be okay.

\---

“So, handsome, when can I see you again?” I ask. 

Clyde leans against the supports of my porch roof. “Sometime.” He lights a cigarette. “I’ll have to drop by that diner of yours more often.”

I study his face. I’ve come to the consensus that maybe,  _ just maybe _ , this could work out. His answer to my question seemed awful genuine and I’m starting to trust him a bit. Still, I’m wary. But what’s in the past is in the past. I  _ have _ to learn to let go of what could happen just because I made a stupid decision. Clyde Barrow is a completely different person, though he has his red flags, he also has his good parts. And ain’t nobody without their flaws. I know I ain’t perfect. 

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. He’s caught off guard again, but he slowly wraps one arm around my waist. I smile as he quickly drops his cigarette to wrap his other arm around me. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here. You’re gonna get a good life. Mark my words,” he whispers against my lips before turning and walking back to his car. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I say quietly as I twist my useless wedding band around my finger. 

He smiles sideways at me. “I don’t, Miss Parker.” 

Clyde slips into his car and speeds off. I watch the dust blow as he disappears again. I shriek and twirl around, lovestruck. I hope he’s right. And even if he isn’t, would that be  _ so bad _ ? As long as I have my family and him, I really don’t need anything else. 

Damn it, I’m falling in love. 

This is something out of a Clara Bow movie. 

Maybe I might just be a star, right out of my own storybook. 


	4. Chapter Four

-Chapter Four-

* * *

_ March 1st, 1930 _

Clara shows her cards and I sigh. “Is that,” she gasps playfully, “three wins in a row for me?”

I stick my tongue out. “I don’t understand this,” I groan. She holds out her hand and I give her the beans we were using as poker chips. 

She adds them to her pile as I gather the cards and shuffle them. I watch as she counts the beans with a smirk. I was never much good at Texas Hold ‘Em, but she sure seems to be creaming me. The cards are dealt out and she bites her lip. 

“Mh, cards ain’t in your favor no more?” I tease. 

Clara shrugs. “You never know.” She puts a few beans in the middle. 

I look over my cards. “Any news ‘bout Liam?” 

“A bit.” She shrugs sadly. “Only eight more months. I miss him so bad.”

“I know, Clar’. It just ain’t right.”

“Naw, it is right. He deserved it. Crime is crime, no matter what. Don’t make it any easier to swallow.”

“I suppose.” I draw a card and try not to sigh. 

She smirks. “Clyde talked to ya lately?” 

I blush. “Um… well, he took me out three days ago.”

“Oh! Tell me  _ all _ about it!” 

I laugh and she pulls a card. “I was workin’ the diner and he comes in, says I gotta leave my porch light on Sunday. I do and he pulls up in this black Ford and takes me to that new picture that came out last week.” 

She raises her eyebrows. “Wow. Did he say anything about… ya know. How?” 

“How?” I bite my lip. “That car ain’t his, Clara. I knew that from the beginning. But… I don’t know. I’ve gone and confused myself with ‘im.” 

“And what’s Roy gonna say ‘bout all this?” 

“He ain’t gonna say nothin’ cause he ain’t ever gonna know.” I take a sip of my lemonade. “I’m never gonna speak to that piece ‘a scum again.”

“Amen. Just divorce ‘im. Ain’t like he can do much ‘bout it if he’s behind them bars for years.”

“Ain’t that the truth! Let him rot there for all I care.” 

“Does your mama know you went out?” 

“Well… not exactly, no.” 

“Bonnie! Oh, she’s gonna  _ kill _ you!”

“What’s it to her? I’m nineteen. I can take care ‘a myself.”

“Still, Clyde’s trouble. You need to be careful.”

I rest my head on my palm. “I know. I will be. He ain’t like Roy. Somethin’s different ‘bout him.”

“Mh,  _ different _ .” She rolls her eyes. 

“Whatever. Let me live, would ya?” 

“Alright, alright. I ain’t got nothin’ more to say. Just know you’ve been warned. I’ve know Clyde for years and he ain’t no ray ‘a sunshine all the time.” She smiles as she drops her cards on the table. “And I believe you owe me some beans.” 

“Goddamn it!” I throw my cards on the table and run my fingers through my hair. “ _ How _ ?!”

“Liam taught me when we were courtin’.” She glances at her wedding band. “He’d whoop both our asses if he was here.”

“I bet.” I gather the cards together and slip them in the tattered envelope she keeps them in. “I gotta go if I’m gonna make it to my shift. You gonna be okay?”

She nods. “Sure. My arms feelin’ bit better anyhow.” 

“Good.” I hug her and exit her home. 

I shield my face from the sun as I start my walk to work. Lucky for me, it’s still cool out. Hopefully, it stays this way for a bit. Texas summers are one step away from the fiery depths of hell. And it seems like the earth is aching with the rest of us. Everything’s dry and dusty as if the farmers needed more hardship. I think this is the Lord’s way of punishing us for all the partying that went down during what everybody’s calling "The Roarin’ Twenties."

My 1920’s sure were roaring, more with Roy’s voice than with partying and laughing. And it seems that no matter what I do, his yelling is always in my mind, 24/7. He can never leave me alone. In the rare occurrence he does, it’s always replaced by something else. Or should I say, someone? 

I haven’t heard from him since, and after Clara’s warning, it only made me want to more. He’s intoxicating, and I want more of it. My only hopes are that he does too. Because I can take the bad with the good, this time. Clyde Barrow seems like he’s got an awful lot of good to offer. Enough to outway all the bad that’s gonna come with this little bad romance, a twist on Romeo and Juliet or Antony and Cleopatra. Doomed from the start, as is the way of star-crossed lovers. It’s such a mad, dizzy, whirling thrill to think that we could be something. Bonnie and Clyde’ll rule the whole world someday. Mark my words. 

\---

When I get home after work that day, there’s a note in the mailbox with all the other bills and a letter from my older brother. I pocket the note and set the mail on the kitchen counter for my mama to deal with. I don’t want to look at more overdue bills today. 

Pennies clink as they fall in the family jar and then I run up the stairs quickly to my bedroom. The note’s addressed to a  _ Miss Bonnie Parker _ and I know it’s just gotta be from Clyde. I recognize the messy chicken scratch from that napkin. 

I rip it open and sit on the edge of my bed. My eyes scan it quickly and I smile broadly, unable to contain my childish joy. 

_ Bonnie, _

_ After the other night, I have come to the idea that you would quite like to see me again. So I have a plan in mind, if you would care to join me. I can pick you up tomorrow night. Just leave your porch light on if it is a yes. Hope to see you soon, Beautiful.  _

I exhale slowly in disbelief that this is really happening. He called me beautiful. With a capital "b." My heart is racing and butterflies are colonizing in my stomach. I really am falling in love, aren’t I? 

And I’ve kinda accepted that. 

Before I can stop myself, I’ve ripped off my wedding ring and thrown it across my closet-sized bedroom. I laugh in exasperation as I hear the metal clink against the floor. Damn, I can’t wait for tomorrow night. 

I shove the letter in a little chest I keep by the foot of my bed that holds all my possessions. Mama must be wondering what the hell happened to me and I gotta make a start on dinner. Billie’s gonna be coming home anytime now. 

But all I can think about is Clyde. As I walk down the stairs, I see his face when I kissed him for the first time. When I pull out a bowl to make some bread dough, I conjure up the image of when he appeared at the diner. 

God, he really has possessed me. Roy, who’s he? Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ma do it. I’m gonna march down to the courthouse and file for a divorce. I never want to be considered his wife again. "Mrs. Thornton" is gonna be six feet under come morning. 

Mama’s sitting in the kitchen thumbing through bills and I look up and brush hair out of my face with a smile as I knead the dough. She drags her hand across her face to try and edge away the tiredness and she grins politely at me. 

“How was work?” she asks. 

“Same as always.” 

She nods. “And Clara?” 

I chuckle. “We played poker. She beat me,  _ again _ .” 

Mama nods. “Poor thing, I tell ya. We should make her dinner sometime and bring it over.” 

“Ooh, I’ll make a pie! The diner’s always got some extra canned fruit, I’m sure I could get some. Should it be peach or cherry?” 

“Peach. Your peach pies are heavenly, Bonnie.” She stands up from her chair and leans against the small counter. “Need any help?” 

“Mh, I think I got it.” 

“Alright.” She purses her lips. “You seen these bills lately?” 

I sigh. “Taxes are driving me insane. I’m trying to pick up extra hours, but so is every girl within all ‘a Dallas.” 

“Well, I’m proud of ya either way.” 

I smile. “Thanks, Mama.” 

The front door swings open and Billie steps into our little house with a grin. “Hello,” she chirps. 

“Hey Billie,” I say. “How was school?”

She sets her two books down on the table. “Hard. Do you think you can help with my homework?” 

I chuckle. “I sure can try. No promises if it’s math.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “Whatever.” 

“You too,” my mother sighs. “I can take a whack at it, Billie.” 

I finish up the meal as Mama coaches Billie in the ways of geometry. I set the loaf of bread and the bit of meat I managed to haggle on my way home from the diner. 

“Any plans this weekend?” Mama asks as she cuts her sliver of meat. 

“Laura invited me over Friday. Our program’s playin’ and her family’s got that radio. Can I go?” Billie says. 

“I don’t see why not. Be sure to thank her parents.” 

Billie nods with a smile. “They like me. And they have this cute little puppy too. He just _loves_ me.”

I chuckle. “How ‘bout you, Bonnie?” Mama says. 

“Probably play cards with Clar’. Ain’t like I got anythin’ better to do.”

“How’s that husband of hers?” Bille asks. 

I sigh. “Alright, I guess. He’s still in there another eight months.” I rest my fork on the plate and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know if Clara’s gonna make it. She’s broken-hearted.”

“Well, she’s got a good friend like you, don’t she?” Mama says. I nod. 

“I’d like to think so.” I bite my lip when Mama glances at my hand. 

“You ain’t wearing your ring,” she says. 

“I know,” I smile. 

“You talked to that bastard since it all went down?” Billie asks. My mama gasps. 

“Billie Jean! We do  _ not _ use that language at the dinner table!” she scolds. 

Billie shrugs with a smirk. “I thought you wanted me to tell the truth. He broke Bonnie’s heart. I think that gives me the right to fudge the rules a bit for that piece ‘a shit.”

My mama's lips tug into a bit of a smiling grimace. “Well… he is a piece ‘a shit, I guess.” 

I laugh. “Ain’t that the truth! And no, I haven’t talked to him.”

“Good. He doesn’t deserve you,” Billie tells me. 

“Aw, thanks.” I grin at her. “For your sake, I hope you find somebody good.”

Like Clyde Barrow?

\---

_ Billy rode on a pinto horse _

_ Billy the Kid I mean _

_ And he met Clyde Barrow riding  _

_ In a little gray machine _

A pebble hits my window and I close my poetry notebook, smiling. I know it’s gotta be Clyde. I pull on my robe and open the window. He’s standing on the ground, about twelve feet below me. 

He cups his hands over his mouth and whisper-shouts, “Bonnie!” Clyde waves towards himself and I know he wants me to come down. I smile at him and duck out of the window. I’ve been waiting for him, with my porch light on. 

I quickly pull on a dress and blow out the candle in my bedroom. I snatch my notebook and sneak down the stairs to him. He’s waiting with his car. It's a caramel-colored one now. I kiss him before anything else. 

“Hi,” I coo as I pull away. 

“Hello, sugar. I thought I’d take you for a little drive.” 

I sigh as I look at the car. “Promise me you’ll return it when you’re done.”

He rolls his eyes and scoops me up, causing me to giggle. “Sure, whatever. Come on.”

Clyde sets me in the car and I slide over into the passenger’s seat. He sits beside me and closes the door before starting the car. I lean my head on his shoulder and rest my hand on his knee. 

“I think I’ve gone and fallen in love with you,” I breathe. I cringe as I wait for his response, worried he’ll scold me for being bold. 

He kisses the top of my head. “Me too, darlin’. Me too.”

I look up at him and smile, the knot of tension in my chest dissipates. “Well, it’s settled then. You’re all mine and I’m yours.”

His lips touch the space between my eyes. “My Bonnie. I like that very much.”

“You look handsome.” I run my thumb across his cheek. 

“Thank you, gorgeous. Now sit back. We’ve got ground to cover.” 

“Ground to cover? What do you mean?” 

“You’ll see.” 

I shrug and sit back in my seat, opening my notebook. He pulls out of my driveway and soon we’re on that big dusty road again, going the opposite direction this time. 

_ Billy drew his bridle-rein _

_ And Barrow stopped his car _

_ And the dead man talked to the living man _

_ Under the morning star _

I look up at Clyde, smiling faintly as he tears down the open road. I know he loves being behind the wheel. That much is clear. 

_ Billy said to the Barrow boy _

_ Is this the way you ride _

_ In a car that does its ninety per _

_ Machine guns at each side? _

“Whatcha writin’?” he asks. 

“Poetry.” 

“Mh, poetry. Let’s hear it then.”

“Maybe later. I ain’t done with it yet.” 

“Alright then, but I’ma hold you to it.” 

I kiss his cheek. “Fine by me.” 

About an hour later, Clyde stops in a big field. I perk up from my daze and look at him with a confused look. “Where are we?” I murmur as I stretch. 

“You got a couple ‘a things you need to learn, Bonnie.” He opens the car door and climbs out. I do the same and watch as he digs around in the backseat. 

He straightens up with a duffle bag and walks over to a tree stump that’s near a few other trees. He waves me over as he unpacks the bag. He has a couple of empty soda bottles and a few shiny guns, all different types. My heart leaps to my throat as I scramble backward. 

“The hell!?” I exclaim. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, now come here.” I eye him suspiciously. “I  _ promise _ I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? Don’t you trust me?” 

I nod slowly and take a hesitant step forward. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me over. I’m reluctant. “We gotta teach you how to shoot.” 

“And  _ why _ do I need to know that?” I ask. 

He looks at me with a smirk and a shrug. “Useful skill, Sugarpie.” 

I narrow my eyes and my eyebrows knit together. “If you think I’m about to join your petty car thefts you are dead wrong.” 

He chuckles. “Never say never.” 

I roll my eyes as he sets up a bottle on the stump. He loads a little handgun and presses it in my palm. “Stand here and try to shoot that.” 

He steps back and I take a deep breath. I stare at the bottle, about ten feet away from me. I close both my eyes, flinching as I pull the trigger. The blast scares the life out of me and I miss completely, dropping the gun and immediately stepping back.

“Welp, there’s that. I’m done.” I hold both my hands up in surrender. 

“Not so fast, Bonnie,” he says as he catches my hand. “You closed your eyes, of course you missed!” 

He picks up the gun again and hands it to me. I stick my tongue out at him. “Fine.”

It takes a couple of shots, but eventually, I graze the neck of the bottle and a piece of it blows off. I feel accomplished, Clyde just laughs. 

“It’ll have to do,” he says. “I’d say you’ve graduated handguns for today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I sigh. 

He hands me a shotgun. “Level two, Babe.” 

I groan and take it slowly. I don’t know anything about bigger firearms like this, so I assume a posture and hope for the best.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” he mutters as he adjusts my apparently terrible position. He presses the butt of it into my shoulder and kisses the nape of my neck before stepping back. I shiver when his lips brush my skin. 

I inhale deeply again, aim, and pull the trigger. I shoot three times and on the third, the sound of glass shattering puts a smirk on my face as the thing is blown into smithereens. Clyde claps. 

“Would ya look at that!” he says. 

I chuckle as I bring it down off my shoulder. “Piece of cake,” I tease. 

“Alright then, Annie Oakley, let’s see how you do with this.” He hands me a long, sleek black gun. It’s frightening. 

He sets up a bottle again. “What the hell is this thing?” I ask. 

“A rifle.” 

“For the love of God, how did you get all this stuff?!”

“Hardware store near Houston a bit before I met you.” 

I scowl. “You stole ‘em, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t seem to recall.” 

I roll my eyes and press the rifle to my shoulder and aim. He pushes my elbow in. “Keep your elbows tucked.”

I sigh and he steps back. A few shots later, the bottle is decimated. “Whew!” 

Clyde nods from behind me. “You’re pretty good with the shotgun. Rifle ain’t bad. Pistol though, mh…”

I glare at him playfully. “Whatever. It don’t matter anyways.” I drop the rifle next to the shotgun and pistol before wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my forehead on his chest. “I’d like to see you try.” 

He kisses the top of my head. “Alright then, princess. I bet you…” He purses his lips like he’s thinking. “I bet you a nice long kiss that I can hit that bottle first try.” 

“Alright, bet.” I smirk as I cross my arms over my chest. He picks up the pistol and sets up a bottle. He steps back a few feet from where I tried to shoot and he aims. I flinch at the sound of the gun firing. The bottle explodes when the bullet pierces it and Clyde laughs. 

“How ‘bout that, sugar! First shot!” 

I giggle as he pulls me to him quickly, the gun abandoned in the grass. He kisses me desperately and lifts me by the waist, holding me there with my arms looped around his neck. 

When he pulls away I smile. “You were gettin’ a kiss anyway, hope you know that,” I say. 

“I know.” He presses his lips against mine again. 

\---

Later in the car, as we’re driving back home, I decide how to finish that poem. Clyde’s trouble, and he’s in trouble. I know that. I was just served a helping of proof. But somehow that ain’t scaring me away, even though my better judgment says I should be running for the hills right about now. 

_ I only had my pinto horse _

_ And my six-gun tried and true _

_ I could shoot but they got me _

_ And someday they will get you! _

_ For the men who live like you and me _

_ Are playing a losing game _

_ And the way we shoot, or the way we ride _

_ Is all about the same _

That night on the way back I read it to him. He liked it, said I deserve to be in the papers. I felt proud of my work. And  _ almost _ proud of Clyde’s work. It ain’t right, but it also ain’t easy. Something about it is sorta charming, in an odd way. 

All I know is that I’m pretty damn in love with him. 


	5. Chapter Five

-Chapter Five-

* * *

_ March 4th, 1930 _

Clyde invited me over Saturday night to meet his parents. And I’m pretty much having a panic attack. What if they don’t like me? And if they don’t, what will he do? 

I’m also contemplating when the hell I’m supposed to tell my mama about him. She’ll be pretty mad that I’ve gone and fallen in love with another convict. I think Roy’s bullshit was almost as hard on her as it was on me. 

As of right now, I’m standing in front of my bedroom door with my wedding ring in my hand, trying to make myself throw it out for good and make my way to the courthouse. Any courage I had is completely gone. 

Instead, I slip the ring back on my finger and forget the whole idea. It isn’t really worth the trouble. Not unless Clyde and I get serious. And I have those looming sense of dread hanging over me like the Depression. Something’s about to go wrong. And I can’t quite put my finger on it. 

But there’s this knot of worry in the pit of my stomach. 

I groan and adjust my uniform for the diner. Another day, just like any other. To think that I thought today I’d be a free woman. I ain’t ever gonna be free. I’m always being hunted by something, always. Roy’s tendril-like phantom fingers are always clawing at me. I’m a wanted woman and I know it.

Oh but Clyde makes me  _ feel _ free. And that’s enough for me. The more I think about it, the more excited I get for Saturday. I’m gonna wear my Sunday dress and my pearl earrings Mama gave me as a wedding present. Roy’s ring’ll be hidden in my bedroom and hopefully, his family will be none the wiser. 

I stop by Clara’s and check on her on my way to the diner. She’s doing just fine. My guess is maybe next week she’ll be back at work. Taking it easy, of course. But Marigold and I could use the help. Even though nobody’s got the money, Dallas folk seem to be able to have some dough for three things: booze, hair styling, and a good breakfast every once in a while.

Speaking of a good breakfast, our cook’s out with a bout of fever and Marigold can’t cook to save her life. So I’m put in the back, flipping pancakes as she waits all the tables on her own. I feel bad for her. But I do kinda enjoy the smell of butter and chicken frying. 

I hum along to a Ruth Etting song as I bread the chicken. Egg wash, flour, fry, that’s what my mama taught me. That was one of the things that always made Roy calm down and stop  beating on me: my cooking. I praise Jesus for the skill. Hopefully one day I can be frying chicken and baking peach pies for Clyde. That’d be nice, a change. I wonder how he likes his coffee, if he likes his chicken real crispy or not. 

Marigold throws open the kitchen door with a pencil tucked in her blonde and curly bun and stains on her apron, probably from that one baby that comes with her family and always spills food. 

It makes me wonder if Clyde would ever want kids. He doesn’t seem like it. But I could always be wrong. I kinda hope I am. I never thought I’d ever have kids. I certainly never wanted to have them with Roy, that’d only create more problems. 

“We have a big issue,” she says. 

“What?” I brush hair out of my face with the back of my hand. 

“A big family came in,” she pulls out her notebook, “a huge order.”

I read over it. Eight orders of biscuits and gravy. I curse under my breath. “I  _ just _ put the biscuits in! It’ll be a while before they’re done.”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Just… how many kids do they have?” 

“Six, four young ones.”

“Alright, get some of the wrappers for the hamburgers and the pens by the cash register. They can use it as drawin’ paper for the time being. It’ll keep ‘em busy and out of the parents’ hair.”

She nods. “Alright, good idea.” Marigold disappears into the kitchen and I sigh in relief, willing those stupid biscuits to cook faster. 

I resume my chicken-frying and humming for the time being. That is, until she comes back, a frazzled look on her face. 

“What, they givin’ you grief?” I ask. 

“Somethin’s goin’ on outside. Come look,” she tells me. 

I quickly follow her out of the kitchen and peer out the window. A cop car drives past and I gasp, gripping her arm. Clyde’s in there. He’s in the damn car. 

A groan escapes my lips slowly as I watch him pass. I can’t  _ believe _ this. What did he do this time?! I slowly back away, into the kitchen. My eyes are stinging with tears but I blink them back. I can’t let the biscuits burn. 

\---   
  


I stare at my poetry notebook, lying closed on the bed in front of me. I have so many thoughts, so many ideas, but I can’t convert them to words. All I feel is sadness, depression. 

Today’s Saturday. I should be fixing up my hair and putting on those earrings. But no, he’s gone. I’ve only known him for a bit and yet I miss his sweet and safe embrace and the little forehead kisses already. 

Billie knocks on my bedroom door and I look up and quickly wipe my eyes. “What’s up with you?” she asks as she sits on the foot of my bed. I sigh and pull my knees to my chest. 

“Don’t tell Mama?” I beg. 

“Promise.” She holds her pinky finger out to me and I chuckle as I take it. “Now spill.”

I sniffle and take a deep breath. “I… I’ve gone and fallen in love again,” I whisper. Her eyes widen. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Mh, I’ll tell ya whatcha gonna do. You gonna dump your sorry-ass husband and let me meet this boy. We’ll see if he passes the test. ‘Cause I didn’t meet your scumbag Thornton and look how that ended up.” 

I start to cry again. “That’s the thing, you can’t meet ‘im. You can’t cause I’ve been so stupid.” 

“Well, what do you mean?” She shuffles to be beside me. 

“He’s in  _ jail _ , Billie. I’ve… I’ve done it again.”

“Who’s in jail?” Mama asks from the doorway. I gasp and press my hand to my mouth. 

“How much did you hear?!” I ask frantically. 

“Not much. What’s goin’ on?” She sits where Billie first sat. 

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“Bonnie, what happened?” She reaches out and brushes away one of my tears. I bite my lip. 

“I’m in love. Ridiculously in love,” I moan. “And he’s been arrested. I’m  _ so _ scared. Roy… I can’t stop thinkin’ bout him. All the bad times and how I can’t have that repeated and- I-”

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” she coos as she pulls me into a hug. “I think you’ve gone and learned your lesson. You’ve got judgment now. Use it.” 

“But it’s all… I don’t know, clouded. I can’t think right.” 

“Tell you what,” she says. Mama takes my hands as Billie rubs my shoulders. “How about you go and visit him tomorra, okay? Maybe that’ll help. I think you just need to sleep on it. I’ll make you some tea and then you get a good night’s sleep, alright?” 

I nod slowly. “C’mon, let’s get you into somethin’ comfy,” Billie tells me as she pulls me to my feet. I watch as she lays out my nightgown and Mama goes down to the kitchen. 

We all sit and drink tea on my bed, in our nightgowns, talking about all sorts of things. I needed this. This family moment. Because no matter what happens, they’ll always be there for me. Romance can die, but family never will. 

I need to remember that. 


	6. Chapter 6

-Chapter Six-

* * *

_ March 4th, 1930 _

My eyes travel across the cement wall as an officer pats me down. He touches me everywhere except my inner thighs. And I quite mean everywhere. I grimace. 

“Alright, go ahead,” the cop says. I take a deep breath and walk through the doors to the group of cells. 

My entire body is trembling as I walk. The inmates watch me and I try to keep my eyes ahead, counting the cells to find Clyde’s. My heart's racing against my chest and I just want out of here. 

_ Clink. Clink. Clink. _

The sound of the cells being opened or closed or just banged on is making my heart race even more. I want  _ out _ of this place. 

“Bonnie?” Clyde stands up in his cell and I rush to him. I smile as he kisses me. I can practically taste the desperation. 

“I love you,” I whisper in his ear, “but how dare you do this to me.”

“It wasn’t exactly by choice, darlin’.” 

I take a shaky breath and gaze into his eyes. “How long?” 

“Five years.” He reaches through the bars and touches my cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Tears flood my eyes and a few escape. “This is… ridiculous.  _ Five years _ ? What the hell did you  _ do?!” _

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.” He presses his forehead to mine. 

“I can’t wait that long. Maybe you’ll be paroled?” 

He shakes his head. “Doubtful.” 

I bite my lip. “There…” I can’t believe I even dared to think about this. “They didn’t pat me down in one spot. If I could… I don’t know.” 

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

“No. I know what I’m doing.” I kiss the top of his head. “I’ll visit often, I promise. But I have a plan.” 

“Bonnie, don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Love ain’t stupid, Clyde.” I pull away from our awkward embrace. “These cops are breathin’ down my neck, but I’ll be back.” I peck his lips. 

“I love you, sugar,” he tells me. 

“You too.” I smile at him. 

The moment I get to my car, I start formulating my plan. Five years, no way. Try two weeks. 

What the hell am I getting myself into? My judgment really is cloudy. 

\---

I take a deep breath before knocking on the Barrow family front door. I rehearsed what I was gonna say about a thousand times last night. It’s all mapped out. 

“Hello?” a woman, I’m assuming his mother, says. 

“Hi, my name’s Bonnie Parker. I was supposed to meet you a few nights ago,” I say in the kindest tone I can manage. 

“Oh, yes. I’m Clyde’s mother.” She holds out her hand and I shake it. 

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” I smile. “See, I visited Clyde on Sunday and he told me that he was allowed a couple ‘a things and wondered if I could pick them up for him.” 

His mother nods. “Certainly.” She opens the door and allows me in. “How is he doin’?” 

“Good, good. Well, good as you can, I suppose. Darn, I really am sorry for you. It must be hard.” 

“I guess I’m used to it by now. I mean, my boys’ve been in and outta jail for years.” 

“Oh?” This is new information to me. 

“Yeah, when they were younger they got nailed for havin’ a truckload ‘a stolen turkeys.” She chuckles. “See, the thing the cops couldn’t accept was that they  _ bought _ them turkeys. My boys had no idea that the seller stole ‘em.”

“And yet they were punished?” I say quizzically. 

“Crazy world, huh?” She sighs, wringing her hands. “Anyways, I’ll show you to Clyde’s room.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

I follow her up the stairs to a small room, about the size of mine. “Him and his brother used to share this room before he got married,” she tells me. 

“Oh,” I say, “I didn’t know his brother was married.” 

His mother nods. “A lovely thing. Blanche’s her name. A preacher’s daughter.” 

“Sounds like a nice girl.” 

She clasps her hands together now. This woman sure messes with her hands a lot. “I guess I’ll, uh, leave you to it? He’s got a bag under the bed you can put it all in.” 

I nod. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be quick.” 

“Nah, take your time. No rush.” She smiles warmly at me before exiting. 

I grin to myself as I quickly go to search for where he might be keeping those guns. I look under the mattress, in the wardrobe, his sock drawer. Just when I think I’m at a loss, I find that bag Mrs. Barrow was talking about. 

I unzip the duffle and smile devilishly. The guns are all there, with a few more. I grab a shirt from the wardrobe and wrap a pistol in it. I put a couple of other pieces of clothing over top of them and hide them real good. I zip it up and sigh in relief. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Barrow. I’m sure he’ll be awful thankful,” I say as I come down the stairs with the bag. 

“Aw, thank  _ you _ , Bonnie. I’m happy that my Clyde’s finally found him a good girl.” 

I smile. “Have a nice day, ma’am.” 

I leave the house and toss the duffle in the back of my car. Yeah, a good girl. That’s what I am. 

Now, the question is, how do I  _ get _ it to him? 

- \--

“Where you goin’?” Mama asks as I turn the door handle. I look up from my thoughts about what I’m planning to do and turn to her. 

“To visit Clyde.” 

She nods. “Stay safe.”

“Mkay,” I say offhandedly as I go back to leaving. 

“And Bonnie,” she calls. 

I sigh and look at her. “Yeah?” 

“Judgment, remember?” She taps her temple. 

“I know, I know.” 

I finally leave and slide into my car. I stare at the duffle bag sitting beside me before taking a deep breath and lighting a cigarette. My car tires crunch on the gravel as I pull out onto the road that runs through our neighborhood. 

If I thought I was nervous  _ last _ time I went to visit Clyde, this is a whole new story. Do I really want to do this? I mean five years is like a lifetime, but… I groan and bang my head against the headrest. 

When I get to the McLennan County Jail, I park and discretely snatch the pistol. I strap it to my inner thigh, high up in order to minimize the chance of it being discovered.

I bite my lip and climb out of my car, trying to ignore the cold metal against my skin. How did I talk myself into this?! I could always just turn around, shove it back in the car, and visit him like normal. But I can’t take five whole years. I  _ have _ to do this. 

Five years really is subjective, ain’t it? Roy’s got himself five years and I don’t think it’s enough. Clyde’s got the same and I’m already dying. Just more proof that I really must’ve made a good choice in Clyde. All the more reason to break him out. 

I’ve always been a good girl. I ain’t ever done anything against the law. I had good grades in school, I had a dream. And now I have him. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

As the cops pat me down, I’m holding my breath the entire time. His hands travel down my waist, my outer thighs, my calves. He goes back up, his hand touching the insides of my legs. I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. 

I’ll join my darling in jail if they find this goddamn gun. 

He brings his hands up, up,  _ up _ . I want to throw up or faint. This can’t be happening. Just as he’s about to brush against the gun, his colleague snaps at him. 

“Hey, don’t touch a lady like that,” the man chides. I look at him thankfully. “Look at how you’re scarin’ her!” 

The cop removes his hands. “Yeah, yeah, you can go.” 

He eyes me suspiciously as I step away from him, trying to gather myself. I turn away from him and start to walk, wiping the sweat off my brow to try and appear put together. 

I walk through the halls, passing cells with smelly and rotting criminals. My heels click on the cement floors and all the inmates are staring, but I keep my eyes straight ahead. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

I turn the corner for the row Clyde’s on. I count six cells and there he is. “Bonnie!” he exclaims as he jumps to his feet. 

“Baby,” I murmur quietly. I narrow my eyes. He gives me a confused look. 

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks as he wraps his arms around my waist. 

I kiss him and talk against his lips real softly. “Listen, under my dress, left thigh. Take it.” 

“You didn’t,” he moans. 

“I did. Now take it.” 

“Bonnie-” 

_ “Take it,” _ I insist. 

He sighs and discretely runs his hand along my leg, slowly slipping under my dress. I hold my breath at his touch and the icy feeling leaves my skin. 

Clyde quickly slips it into the waistband of his pants and I sigh in relief. “I love you so, so much,” I whisper. 

“I love you too, Baby.” He cups my cheek. “But why’d you gotta go and do somethin’ stupid like that? Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in? This ain’t no bed ‘a roses here.” 

“You’re worth the risk. I can’t take five years ‘a this.”

“Well… see you soon, sugar,” he whispers in my ear with a little kiss. 

I wink. “I’ll be waitin’.” 

“You take care ‘a yourself, alright? Case this don’t go well.” 

“It’s gonna go just perfect, darlin’. I’ma leave my porch light on and then you and I’ll… figure somethin’ out. Alright?” 

“Alright.” He smiles at me as I walk away, back down the hall, my heels still clicking. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

I try to push down the thought that lingers.  _ This might not go well _ . 


	7. Chapter Seven

-Chapter Seven-

* * *

_ March 11th,1930 _

I stuff clothes in a little suitcase and latch it. Clyde’s gonna be here any moment now and we’re gonna have to get out of Texas real quick. God, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ridiculously excited. 

I can see it now. Him and I, living somewhere, Oklahoma maybe? I’ll finally divorce Roy and him and I could marry and we can be together forever. I’m gonna learn how he likes all his food and if he prefers the right or left side of the bed and all those little things I still have engraved in my mind from Roy. 

Oh, but instead of my soon to be ex-husband yelling at me not to burn the chicken and make sure it’s crispy, it’ll be Clyde hugging my waist from behind and kissing my cheek while I make it perfectly to his liking without him even having to ask. 

I twirl around my bedroom, thinking of the poem’s I’m gonna write him and all the songs I could sing. Maybe he likes music too. We could dance around our little home, humming songs. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a little baby to sing lullabies too. 

Wouldn’t  _ that _ be just grand? 

I wonder if Clyde would want a girl or a boy. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy. I’m sure Mama would love to have a grandbaby too. 

This is better than any dream I’ve ever had about being some famous movie star or singing on Broadway. What’s money and fame when I could just have a happy life with my sweet Clyde?

I look out the window, bouncing on my toes as I wait for him to come speeding up to my house. But he hasn’t. Maybe he just hasn’t escaped yet. I suppose it would be smart to lay low for a bit. It’d be awful suspicious if he escaped a day after I visited him. 

My poetry notebook catches my eye from where it sits on my nightstand. I smile and sit on my bed, flipping it open. I’ve got the most splendid idea for a poem. 

_ I have fallen in love with a certain boy, _

_ A boy by the name of Clyde. _

_ I know it will be hard, _

_ But I’m along for the ride; _

_ He has my heart, my everything _

_ And I will not dismay, _

_ I know he loves me plenty, _

_ He tells me every day. _

My mama walks into the room with a newspaper in her hands and a flustered look. It almost looks like she’s been crying. I quickly close my notebook and run to her, hugging her tightly. 

“What’s the matter?!” I ask. 

“This… this Clyde boy…” She pulls out of the hug and stares at me. “He escaped.”

My eyes widen. “He did!” I smile and press the heel of my hand to my mouth to try and hide it. 

“I don’t even know you anymore,” she whispers. 

“What do you mean, Mama?” I touch her shoulder and she turns away. 

“You did this! You… helped him!” 

I pale. “Mama-”

“No, you don’t have any excuse for this.” She grips her arms like she’s trying to shield herself from me. “What would your papa think?” 

“Mama!” Tears prick my eyes. “How could you  _ say _ that!?”

“It’s true, is it not? Correct me, dear, if I’m mistaken. You smuggled a gun in that prison and helped an incarcerated felon break out of jail. A felon who you met a month ago and are somehow head over heels for.”

“Well… God, when you put it like that it does sound bad.”

“Bad?  _ Bad?! _ Are you kidding me?! You’re gonna get yourself locked up in jail too at this rate!”

“Bonnie’s goin’ to jail?” Billie murmurs from behind my mother. I groan. 

“No I am  _ not _ .” I look at her. “Just… I don’t want to have this conversation, okay? Now, I’ve got a bag to pack.”

“You’re  _ leavin’ _ ?!” Mama exclaims. I cringe. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay!? I don’t have many options. Please, he’s gonna be here any minute.”

“Is he now?!” She grits her teeth. “Fine then. Go. We’ll see how long this lasts.”

She turns on her heel and brushes past Billie. I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. I won’t cry over this. 

“I’m sorry-” Billie starts.

“Don’t be. It’s my fault.” I hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. “ _ I’m _ sorry ‘bout all this. And I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

She sniffles. “Please don’t go, Bonnie.” 

“Hey, I’m not gonna be gone forever. Once we get a plan sorted out you can come and visit. I love you so much. Make sure mama knows that too.”

“I will.”

We exchange a smile that’s interrupted by a car honking. I gasp and quickly pull away from the hug. I snatch up my suitcase.

“That’s him,” I say as I pass her. She follows.

“I’ma get a glimpse of ‘im before you go. Make sure he meets the standards.”

I chuckle as I drag my bag down the stairs. “He will, goodness.”

She peeks out the window at Clyde as he walks up the porch steps. “Damn, he’s a stud. Looks a bit scary, guess he should though.” She taps her chin in thought. “I guess he passes.”

I smile at her. “Thanks, Billie.”

Clyde knocks and I quickly open the door, throwing my arms around him. He kisses my cheek quickly before pulling away. 

“Look, baby, I can’t take you with me,” he says.

My face falls quickly and Billie raises her eyebrows. “I take that back,” she mutters, “he’s an ass.” I glare at her and she ducks out of the front hall. 

“What do you mean?” I choke.

“Darlin’ listen,” he says quietly as he cups my face in his hands. I debate pulling away. “It’s too dangerous right now. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“But-”

“No buts. I have to go now. I love you so much.” He kisses my forehead and turns quickly, practically jogging back to his car. I watch in horror as he drives off as quick as he came. 

Mama stands behind me, her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. “What did I tell you?” she snips.

“Oh shut up!” I snap, tears falling as I slide down the front door. “I can’t believe this.” She raises her eyebrows and I look up at her. “Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t ‘a snapped at you.” 

“Yeah, well…” She shrugs. 

“He used me, didn’t he?”

“Seems that way.” She kneels in front of me. “You shoulda left him to rot with your husband.”

I scoff. “Men. Despicable.” She sighs and I pull my knees to my chest as I start to sob. “I mean, I really loved him. And he just  _ leaves _ . He even  _ told _ me not to break him out. Did I listen?  _ No! _ God, just like Roy.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t lose faith,” Billie says quietly as she emerges from the kitchen where she fled to. “He could  _ really _ be plannin’ on comin’ back.”

“I suppose.” I wipe my eyes. “I’m goin’ for a drive to clear my head. I’ll be back, alright?”

“A’ight,” Mama says, “just don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

I chuckle. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Billie sighs and Mama pulls me to my feet. I take my purse and the spare notebook that I keep in there. I dump myself in our shared car and drive off slowly before tearing down the street as fast as Clyde would. 

\---

I toss the empty bottle of whiskey I just downed on the ground before aiming at the other glass bottle resting on the tree stump. There’s still a nitch in the wood from when I kept missing the other day with Clyde. I pull from my cigarette and let the smoke pour out of my mouth, about to pull the trigger on the shotgun I swiped from Clyde’s bedroom when I decided I would break him out of that god-forsaken prison. 

I miss the bottle. “For the love of God!” I shout in anger as I fire again and again. Eventually, the bottle explodes and I smile in satisfaction. 

He’ll come back. Right?

I light another cigarette and pinch it between my teeth as I set up another bottle, stepping back a little more. I hold the gun out and shoot. First shot, the bottle is destroyed. I smile, half expecting Clyde to clap behind me. 

How did this happen to me? How could I, a quote-unquote "good girl" get wrapped up in all this?

I collapse in the seat of my car and drop the still-smoking shotgun in the seat beside me and pull out my notebook. I decide my poem ain’t finished. 

_ And the like of us may never hope _

_ For death to set us free _

_ For the living are always after you _

_ And the dead are after me _


	8. Chapter Eight

-Chapter Eight-

* * *

_ April 10th, 1930 _

Well, I suppose we’ll never know if Clyde planned on coming back for me or not. Before he got the chance, the laws got him. In his defense, it was quite impressive. He made it almost to Ohio. 

I don’t know how to feel about it at all. Secretly, _selfishly_ , I’m kinda glad that he’s back in Texas. At least he isn’t gone from me forever. He’ll just finish his five years and maybe my dream’ll really come true.

That dream is absolutely  _ shattered _ when I hear the news. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

The gavel banging breaks me from my daze. I look to the front of the room where Clyde sits in his dirty prison uniform. My heart warms at seeing him again, even though it's under terrible circumstances.

He glances back at me and I blow him a sad kiss. It’s the most I can muster. A smile is unthinkable. I lean forward in my chair and stare at the judge, willing him to just say he’s free. But I know that’s impossible. 

“Clyde Chesnut Barrow, you were sentenced to five years in the McLennan County Jail for multiple counts of armed robbery, shoplifting, and auto theft. You escaped with other inmates using a weapon with an identifiable source,” the judge announces. 

I exhale in relief. They don’t know it was me. 

“And because of your escape, you are now sentenced to fourteen years of hard labor at Eastham Prison Farm.” 

Billie gasps beside me, Mama groans, I’m just frozen. This is  _ impossible! _ They can’t  _ do _ that! Billie takes my hand and squeezes it. My lip wobbles as I watch him being taken away. He doesn’t even look back at me. And last moment, he does. And it's one hell of a glare. It all happens so fast. 

Oh, he must  _ hate _ me now. I pressured him into breaking out. This is all my fault. And now  _ he _ has to pay for  _ my _ stupid attempt. Goddamn it! How could I let this happen? I was supposed to  _ free _ him, not make it worse!

After a moment of sitting in pure shock, Mama eases me to my feet and leads me out to our car. I opt to sit in the back with Billie. Mama drives and I just sob and sob. No one says anything, not a single word. My sister just squeezes my hand. 

I love my family, maybe more than I love Clyde. That isn’t a fair debate, really. I could never choose between them, that’s crazy. But now it seems like I’m forced into getting my family and my family only. When Clyde gets out, I’ll be thirty-three and him thirty-four. 

I make a promise to myself that I’m going to visit him as soon as possible. If he wants to see me, that is. I’m sure he will. Right?

Turns out I was correct. When I came to Eastham Prison Farm about a week later, he kissed me so frantically and hugged me so tightly you’d think we hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he says as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I promise I was gonna come for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I kiss him again. “All I know is that I love you too much to care anymore.”

He holds me closer to him. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That makes two of us.” I smile at him before taking a deep breath. “What do you want me to do about all this?”

“Nothin’. If I’m lucky, I could get parol in a few years.”

I groan. “A few  _ years _ ?”

“That’s being optimistic.” 

“Maybe I outta start prayin’ again then,” I chuckle sadly. “I’ll be waiting for you, darlin’. Every day, every day ‘til I die.”

“You’re so perfect.” He pulls my face to his and I wrap my arm around him. I pull away quickly when a newspaper hits my shoulder. 

‘Visitin’ time’s over, missie,” a cop says in all of them's cruel tone. I sigh and quickly kiss Clyde’s forehead. 

“Bye, baby. Love you,” I whisper. 

“You too.” He touches my cheek with a tendernss only he has before I pull away and adjust my purse on my arm to leave. I blow him a kiss and turn. 

As I walk back to my car, I start formulating things to say in a letter to the judge, asking for his parole. Maybe I could work together with his family to figure something out. 

\---

I collapse in a chair and groan. Clara looks at me over the rim of her mug and sighs. Her arm’s out of the cast and she’s back at work, a nice break for Marigold and me. 

“I told you, didn’t I?" she drawls. "I told you that you had better be careful and did you listen?  _ No." _

“Look, I didn’t think he’d get fourteen years!” I exclaim. 

“Well, what did you expect? He’d waltz in there with a full pardon and maybe even a little complimentary muffin basket for all the trouble?!” 

I glare at her. “What is your point, here?” 

“I’m tryin’ to knock some sense into ya! The sooner you accept it the better it’s gonna go for the both of ya.”

“Oh,  _ sure _ . You really accepted it back in January.”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ .” She sighs. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is that the best you can do is visit him when ya can and just hope God forgives, I guess.” 

I clutch a throw pillow to my chest. “I see how  _ terribly _ bad it really is, Clar’. Like… like you don’t know if life’s gonna keep goin’.”

“Like the world’s stop spinnin’,” she whispers. I look up at her and see the tears in her eyes. 

We start crying at the same time and don’t stop cryin’ for a very long time. She sits beside me and we just cry in each other’s arms. Granted our problems and circumstances are different, but the pain is the same. 

I eventually pull away and wipe my eyes. “When’s Liam get out?” I ask. 

“September,” she groans. 

“Ouch. Clyde’s in ‘till November. Of 1944, that is.”

“Bonnie, what are we gonna do with you?” she chuckles sadly as she dries her tears. 

“Keep me from breakin’ ‘im out again, that’s what.” 

“God, I knew it was you.” She stands up and brings her mug to the sink. “How’d ya do it?” 

I chuckle. “Strapped it to my thigh. Lucky one of the cops thought it inappropriate to pat me down there.”

“Oh Lord above!” she laughs. 

“Billie was cool with it. Mama was so pissed.”

“I bet.”

I glance at my watch. “I better get goin’. Billie’s gonna want help on her book report.” 

I stand up from the couch and she hugs me. “See ya tomorra.”

“See ya, Clar’.” I smile at her and turn to leave. 

When I get home, indeed, Billie wanted help on her report. She’s reading  _ The Great Gatsby _ . I had to read that in school, back when it was fresh as hell of the press. During then, the lavish lifestyle and dazzling parties would be incredible. Now I see that really isn’t the case. 

Money’s nice, but it ain’t everything. Fame is dandy, but I don’t care enough to want it. I suppose if I was given the opportunity I’d take it. But only if I could keep my Clyde with me. Otherwise, I don’t want a lick of it. I see that now. 

I’m happy just being Bonnie and Clyde, two lovers living in Dallas, not a care in the world. 


	9. Chapter Nine

-Chapter Nine-

* * *

_ August 31st, 1930 _

_ Bang. Bang. Bang. _

Bottles shatter, one after another. I’m getting real good at this. I knock back the last swig of whiskey, the alcohol burning my throat. I set the bottle up and blow it to smithereens. This is the only piece of him I have right now. 

It’s been five months and I haven’t seen him once. We’d been writing, though. It ain’t enough. I need him. I can’t go on like this, not for fourteen years. Not for a day more even. 

For some reason, he doesn’t want to see me anymore. And it breaks my heart. On the rare occurrence that he does, the laws’ll refuse that I visit. And I am quite pissed off, to say the least. 

I also'ld like to know why on God’s green earth Clyde's not letting me visit! I don’t understand this one bit. It ain’t like he’s got something better to do anyhow. All I want is just to see his face.

When I run out of bottles to shoot, I crawl into my car. It’s pretty dark out and I best be getting home. I wish it was Clyde driving, me beside him. Riding by his side into the great unknown...what an adventure. 

I make it home and trudge up the stairs. With every passing day, it gets harder and harder. I feel like I have Clyde Withdrawl Syndrome or something. Is it bad? To feel this way after a month's acquaintance? Most definitely. Forcibly unforced. 

I pull open my sock drawer where a stuffed envelope is tucked beside Camel cigarettes, a box of matches, and a half-empty box of bullets. I slide down the wall as I pull letters out of the envelope, re-reading Clyde’s words to me.

_ Dear Baby, _

_ I just read your sweet letter, and I was sure glad to get it for I am awfully lonesome and blue. Why did you say you didn’t know whether I would accept it or not? _

He's talking about how in my previous letter I asked if he would still read _my_ letters even though I had upset him by mentioning a fight I had with Ted and how he kept wanting to go out with me. Also, although he didn’t know this, I was questioning if he still  _ wanted _ me. If he even loved me anymore. Rather, if he ever loved me. 

And dare I say, if I ever loved him. 

_ Now, Honey, you know darn well I didn’t mean what I said in my last letter. I’m just jealous of you and I can’t help it. And why shouldn’t I be?  _

Yeah, because he has  _ so _ much to be jealous about. 

_ If I was as sweet to you as you are to me, you would be jealous too. _

He’s plenty sweet to me. Well, he was at least. He’s changed. I don’t know what it is, but there is a certain coldness in his most recent letters. I really do feel like he’s fallen out of love with me. And why shouldn’t he? I got him holed up in that place anyhow. 

_ Say, sugar, these loco guys are making so much noise I can’t write, so I will finish this tomorrow. After a long and lonesome night, I will try and finish. It’s Easter Sunday and I sure wish I was outside with you.  _

Dear Jesus, do I wish that. The moment I see him again, I  _ will _ figure out how to get him free. Mark my words. 

_ Gosh, Honey, I bet we could have a good time today. Where were you last Easter, Honey, and who was with you? Last Easter Frank Clause and I were together, near as I can remember. Mrs. Vaughn sent me an Easter card yesterday but it wasn’t near as pretty as the one you sent me last week.  _

And then it ends. No sign-off. I always signed it off using various pet names at the end with a little heart or something. I’m worried about him. Eastham is no ray of sunshine, I know that. Clyde would be better off some other place. A year in there is enough punishment for a life of crime in my opinion.

\---

Clara is practically jumping out of her skin as she shuts the car door. I’m driving her to the bus stop her Liam’s coming in at and we’re taking him home. She couldn’t stop talking about the meal she was gonna fix him ‘cause she said: “That prison food is pure cardboard.” 

It only made me think of the table I would lay for my Clyde. I had received more letters, still no visit, however. All of it only makes me want to see him more. 

“What bus’s he on?” I ask. 

She looks over the paper in her hand that the governor mailed to her. “The 10 o’clock.” 

“Alright, we’ll make it.” 

Clara grins and presses her hand to her heart. “I hope he’s alright.” 

“He’s gonna be, honestly.” I chuckle. “You worry too much.” 

“Mh, like you ain’t been worryin’ yourself sick over your sweetheart.” 

“You visited Liam two weeks ago! I ain’t seen Clyde since April.” 

“What’s up with him?” 

“I don’t know. It’s got me worried though.” 

“Yeah, I’d be.” She glances out the window and shrieks. “One mile! Oh my Lord!”

“Goodness, calm down! You’re gonna have a heart attack.”

“Oh, you just wait. I’ll be tellin’ you to calm down someday.” 

I scoff. “Don’t count on it. At this rate, I’ll be dead before he ever makes it out.”

“Oh,” -she hits my arm- “don’t say that. He’ll be paroled and you’ll be just fine.”

“Yes, yes, and you’ll be the maid of honor at our wedding,” I tease. 

“You bet. Finally, a wedding where I don’t want to deck the groom.”

I snort. “You hated Roy?” 

“Oh like President Hoover!” 

“Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?! Do you know what we could’ve avoided?!” 

She chuckles. “Oh, you wouldn’tve listened to me. You had goo-goo eyes for each other since Freshman year.”

I gag. “I don’t know  _ why _ . He’s a bastard.” 

“Bastard’s an understatement. He was a wanderin’ man with a wanderin’ mind, I tell ya.”

“Trust me, I know.” I roll my eyes. “Anyhow, I believe your man’s  _ wanderin’  _ around that bus platform right now lookin’ for his pretty little wife.”

She giggles. “Aw, you flatter me.” 

“I speak only truth, madame.” I smile at her as I pull into the itty bitty area for parking vehicles that no one can afford anymore. 

She’s already opening the door before I’ve even shut off the engine. “Oh, I see him! Liam!” 

I watch as the handsome twenty-two year old with shaggy red hair scoops her up in his arms. I can’t help but smile at them. He twirls her around and kisses her and I can hear the laughter as I climb out of the car. 

“Oh, I love you!” she giggles as he sets her on her feet, only for her to hug him tighter. 

“I love you too, baby,” he says as he kisses the top of her head. 

She smiles at him and then looks my way. “I’m sure you remember Bonnie, right, Darlin’?”

I wave and she drags me over. “Hi, Liam,” I say. 

“So you was the one takin’ care of my Clara then, huh?” I nod and so does he. “Honest to God can’t thank you enough.”

“My pleasure.” I give him a smile. 

Clara rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?” 

“ _ Home _ . God, that seems like a dream,” he says. 

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be nice to be back then,” I tell him. “I can drive.” 

Clara and Liam sit in the backseat, so close that the phrase "leave room for Jesus" has been completely forgotten. I think it’s purely adorable. And I really wish that me and Clyde could be doing the same. God, I cannot wait for the day he’s released, no matter how long that takes. 

I help Clara with the cooking that night. Well, more like I do the cooking while she and Liam catch up with her occasionally kneading the dough in front of her. I really don’t mind though. They deserve this night together. 

After the dinner’s all cooked, I leave the two of them so they can have some time alone and I make my way home. The only thing on my mind is Clyde and just how badly I want  _ him _ home. 

My sweetheart’s a good 200 miles away from me and I hate that. Especially since I don’t even know if he’s okay. For the love of God, I wake up every morning wondering if he’s even breathing anymore. 

I’ve tried to visit four times. I made the trip down there and once he told the laws not to let me back. The other three times, they shooed me away themselves. And when I wrote to him about thinking of visiting, he’d tell me not to come. He’d used dozens of excuses, like how the work times were weird or that he didn’t want me to spend the money on gas or taking a bus. 

He really just  _ didn’t _ want to see me. And I can’t fathom why. He didn’t seem mad at me when I last saw him. So what’s amiss now? 

Oh, but I didn’t even know the half of it. 


	10. Chapter Ten

-Chapter Ten-

* * *

_ December 24th, 1930 _

I tuck the peach pie I made in a paper sack and slip on my sunglasses as I walk out to the car. I set the bag in the passenger’s seat, start the car with a cigarette pinched between my teeth. 

I finally coordinated a time with Clyde’s torture, excuse me,  _ work _ schedule. This time I better not be shooed away. Even if he doesn’t want to see me, I’m gonna come anyway. It has just been too long. I glance at the glove compartment where I’ve stashed the bullets to the shotgun in the trunk of the car. I always have it with me, either in my car or in my bedroom, hidden under the bed. Something about it reminds me of him. 

I flick ashes out the window onto the blurring dusty road below me. I have a good three hours of driving, hopefully the pie’ll still be warm. I knew he wasn’t going to get a Christmas dinner or anything, so I did what I could. 

I turn on the radio and hum along to the songs. I like to think I have a rather pretty voice. I sang along to the radio once when Clyde and I were driving around empty streets. He told me I had the voice of an angel. He also enjoys music, too. Played some guitar for me once. I said we should start a band. We muddled over names for a while. 

Now I’m gonna make myself cry. I have got to stop being so sappy and sentimental. I blink back my tears and press my foot onto the gas pedal a little  harder, speeding up for the rush. 

I start to slow when the tears start coming. I don’t want to hit something just ‘cause my eyes were all watery. That’d be a poor way to go, I think. Holed up in a car, all on your own, ‘cause you were crying and couldn’t see whatever made you crash. Painful too, I’d think. So I steady myself. I'll leave the reckless driving to Clyde. Lord knows _he'll_ be the one to get me killed. 

But that's okay. When I die, I want it to be with Clyde by my side. If that box is checked, I can take whatever God wants to throw at me. Disease, sure. Age, gladly! Car crash, well.. why not? All I need is my darling with me. 

The drive to Lovelady is a long and costly one, but it is so worth it. I listen to the radio, imagining that Clyde’ll be happy with my surprise visit. He will, won’t he?

Of course, he will.

I have to remember that he loves me.

Right?

And I thank my lucky stars that the cops let me back this time. I’m on my way back there before they change their minds. 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _

My heels click against the cement as I walk back to Clyde’s cell. I turn a corner, counting the cells to his. 

“One, two, three, four,” I murmur under my breath, “five, six, sweet _Jesus_!”

I drop the bag with the pie and gasp. A police officer has Clyde by the collar of his shirt, holding him up and saying something to him. 

“Bonnie!” Clyde sputters. 

I rush to him and the police officer drops him. “This is your last warning,  _ Barrow _ ,” he spits. 

I slip between them and wrap my arms around my Clyde, kissing his cheek before leaning back and looking him over. He has a black eye, gash on his cheek, and he looks pale and gaunt. It brings those tears back to my eyes. 

“What happened to you?!” I exclaim as I pull him back to me. 

“It don’t matter,” he whispers. 

I kiss his forehead. “What do you want me to do? I’ll go to the ends of the earth for you, baby.”

“I ain’t gettin’ you in trouble.” 

I bite my lip, using that spike of pain to keep my tears at bay. It doesn’t work. “I love you, Clyde,” I whisper as a tear rolls down my cheek. 

“Bonnie, I adore you.” He reaches through the bars and cups my face, bringing it towards him and kissing me gently. “I just didn’t… didn’t want you seeing me like this.” 

“Aw, Clyde,” I moan. 

“Vistin’ times over, Little Missy,” the cop says as he pulls me away from Clyde. 

“Get your hands off me!” I exclaim as I shove him back. I look at Clyde for a moment before glaring back at the police officer. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” I murmur as I hand him the little paper bag. “I made a peach pie, might be a little squashed though.”

“Thank you,” he says back. We share a long gaze before the cop clears his throat. I blow him a kiss and turn on my heel. 

Oh. My. Lord

I am so angry. All almost-five-feet of me. I might just kill somebody. Would that be too crazy at this point? I mean, look at all I’ve done. I keep a shotgun under my bed and I’ve broken somebody outta jail. I’m only a step away from joining a gang or unleashing hell on those cops.

Firstly, I want to know who the hell is beating on him. Is it the laws or other inmates? I feel like it’s both. All I know is that I’m not letting it go on for another second. 

I’ve never seen him in worse shape. He was even more rail-thin than usual, although I kinda expected that. What I wasn’t banking on was him having bruises and cuts and all sorts of things.

He must be in so much pain, poor thing! Oh, I just want to fix him up and lay him down for a long nap to rest him. I want to care for him until he’s all better. My Clyde doesn’t deserve none of this, even if he did rob a few folks. 

The question is, what am I gonna do about it? 

I have plenty of ideas, sure. I could write the governor and say he should be transferred to some other place. Or maybe I’ll submit a plea for his parole. 

Oh, but I’m Clyde Barrow’s girl. And I'm not about to take the high, easy road. 

Mama asks me all about how it went while we’re eating dinner and I almost break down in tears. Terrible, fiery anger bubbles in me. I want revenge on that place and everyone in it.  Billie’s kinda shocked about it all. She says I outta write to the prison system. I tell her it would be of no good use. What are they gonna do about it anyhow? It’s not like they care. 

That place is ridiculously inhumane and absolutely despicable. I feel bad for Clyde. And I really wish that I could trade places with him. I’ve learned the art of gritting my teeth and bearing the beatings. 

I still have one scar across my cheek from when Roy threw a dish at me. It’s very faint, only I notice it. But it is still there. When I came to Clara’s all bleeding and sobbing she took me in and I stayed there for a while.

Roy apologized so much when I came home. He gave me flowers and acted real sweet to me for a week or two. And I forgave him. Why? ‘Cause I felt like I had to. I felt like I deserved the pain since I had been disagreeing with my husband.

He ruled our home with an iron fist. When he _was_ home, that is. 

But I’m not gonna be submissive to anyone no more. Not even the law. 

\---

_ Bang. Bang. Bang.  _

Bottles explode. I have them set up in a row. I shoot them one after another. This is my outlet. I can’t take it out on those cops, so I shoot helpless soda bottles instead. 

I hit every one without fail. Clyde would be proud. I miss him so badly that it hurts. With every idea I have about how to fix this, a thousand pop up saying how bad that idea is. But I’m never gonna stop trying. 

He will be free. He will. 

I spoke with his mother, Cumie, about how we might go about getting him paroled. She has a few ideas. But to my  _ extreme _ dismay, it is much too soon to ask for his parole. We’re gonna wait a year or so. 

And God, that is tearing me apart! 

To be quite honest, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now. I’m completely and utterly helpless. And I hate that. All I can do is sit back and watch it all happen like it’s a talkin’ picture. The best I can do is just visit him to try and keep his spirits up, I guess. 

At least he still loves me. He was only shooing me away ‘cause of this mess. And that thought is comforting, even though it really shouldn’t be. I’m awful selfish. But I’ve rarely had time to ever be selfish. It’s always been give, give, give. Work extra hours to keep my family afloat, care for Clara in her time of need, bend over backward to put with Roy, all of it. 

No matter what, I’m gonna keep giving. I’m promising myself that I’m never gonna go take stuff all for myself. Even if I’m in a position Liam got wrapped up in, I ain’t gonna do it for me. All I do is for the people I love. And I swear on the Lord’s name that I’ma keep it that way.

So when the goin’ did get rough, it was all for Clyde. Always. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

-Chapter Eleven-

* * *

_ October 30th, 1931 _

I take a can of red beans off the shelf and put it in my little basket next to the bag of rice. I sigh as I walk up and down the aisles of the mom and pop grocery store. It’s pretty much empty. No one can afford much food at all. I guess I should consider myself lucky. 

Clara and I are doing the shopping together. Liam’s got himself a job at a glass place. She’s awful proud of him and so am I. I know that it ain’t easy gettin’ a job once you get outta prison. God, the struggle it’s gonna be to get Clyde some work!

“How’s Billie doin’?” she asks as she inspects the ears of corn stacked up in a crate. They’re a bit old, so they’re on discount. 

“Great. Just graduated high school in May.” I smile. “Proud of ‘er for not pickin’ up any scummy boys along the way.”

She chuckles. “What’s she plannin’ on doin’?” 

“I don’t know. Probably find a waitressin’ job like us.” 

I set my groceries on the counter and the grocer tallies up the price. “She’s a real bright gal. Could be a school teacher if she wanted,” Clara says. 

“Trust me, Billie ain’t interested in no teachin’ job. Math is her Achilles’ heel. Mine too, if we bein’ honest.”

“You’ve got your poetry goin’ for ya,” Clara says as she gets her own groceries paid for. 

“I suppose,” I chuckle. “You and Liam talked ‘bout havin’ any more babies? You two’d make a real pretty baby.”

“We thinkin’ ‘bout it.” She sighs. “I don’t know. I just don’t wanna lose another one, ya know?” 

“Yeah, I get it. Maybe it’d be best to wait until this all blows over.”

“By then, you and I’ll be six feet under.” She scoffs. “I’m banking on this lasting years.”

“God, I hope not. I can’t wait to see the world when we get out of this mess.”

Clara takes her groceries after givin’ the man a few coins and I watch as they fall into the cash register and the man locks the drawer. It amazes me that Clyde and all them criminal folk have the audacity to waltz in here, point a gun, and empty it likes it nothin’. 

Speaking of my darling, as we walk out of the store, the newspaper rack catches my eye. I stop in my tracks as I read the headline. 

**_MURDER AT EASTHAM_ **

“Bonnie?” Clara nudges me. 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” I groan. I snatch a newspaper and set two pennies on the counter for the man. Clara follows me quickly out the door, trying to look over my shoulder to read the paper. 

“What is it?” she asks frantically. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Mh, God, I’ve gotta go make sure Clyde’s okay.”

“Does it say who died?” 

“Some Ed Crowder guy was stabbed.”

Clara grimaces. I slide into my car and she sits in the passenger’s seat. “I’ma drop you off at home,” I tell her.

“No, I’ll come too.” 

“Won’t Liam be wonderin’ where you are?” 

“I’ll run in real quick and leave ‘im a note.”

I sigh. “Alright.” 

The tires crunch on the gravel as I turn out of the street and towards Clara’s place. She runs in and drops off her groceries and leaves Liam a note when we get there. She’s back as soon as she left and we’re off towards Lovelady. 

“Oh Christ,” I mumble, “we gonna have to stop for gas.”

“I’ll help cover it. You’ve been drivin’ me everywhere.”

“Aw, no, Clar’, I got it.”

She shakes her head and holds out a dollar. “I insist.”

“Alright, fine.” I smile at her tightly, my heart still racing with anxiety. “Thanks.”

About an hour later, we come across a filling station. I pump the gas, pay the two dollars and a quarter. The place is tiny, kinda homey. We’re out in the middle of nowhere with simply empty, dusty roads running either way. Nobody would find you out here. I could drop dead now and it’d be a good three-quarters of an hour before anybody came. 

Clara and I drive on. I get her to start talking about all sorts of random stuff to keep my mind off what I might find when we make it to Eastham. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles are turning white.

It’s another terrible two hours or so before I see the familiar signs that we’re coming up to the prison. I’ve been here a bunch, but’ve only seen Clyde three or so times. And that breaks my heart. 

Clara and I are patted down. She looks like a nervous wreck, but I’m quite used to it. After checking in with the guards, I’m shown to where Clyde’s kept. The prison is eerie, makes my hair stand up straight. I don’t like it. There’s a chill from the tiny windows not being very well sealed. The stench of sweaty men and rotten food is repulsive.

“Yikes,” she mutters as we walk, “this place is…”

“Terrible.”

“Liam got it good, didn’t he?” 

“Very much so.”

I count the cells and sigh in relief when I see him sitting on the rock-like bunk, staring at the wall. Clara grips my arm with a happy chuckle. 

“Oh, baby!” I say as I rush over to him. He breaks out of his trance and looks at me. 

“Bonnie!” He jumps to his feet and hugs me through the bars. “I didn’t know you was comin’ today, sugar!”

“I read the papers and I had to make sure you was okay.” I cup his cheek. “Your face is lookin’ much better.”

“Mh, they’ve found somebody else to dote on.” 

I gaze into his dark eyes for a moment. Something’s different about him. I would ask but I’m scared of what the answer might be. 

I look away and gesture behind me to where Clara stands. “She wanted to come,” I say. “Hope you don’t mind.”

He chuckles. “Naw, I don’t. How you doin’, Clar’? That husband ‘a yours free yet?” 

She nods. “Got out last September.”

I kiss Clyde’s forehead. “Your mama and I’ve got a plan to get you out, darlin’.” 

“Don’t,” he growls. 

“Not that kind of plan,” I chuckle. “We’re gonna get you parole, okay? And this is all gonna be over and behind us.” 

“I wouldn’t be too sure ‘bout that.” 

“Be optimistic, would ya? I get enough of all that negativity from my mama.” 

“I’m just bein’ realistic, alright?” He kisses me and runs his fingers through my hair, holding my face so he can gaze at me. “I love you, Bonnie.”

I blush, embarrassed that he’s being all sweet on me in front of Clara. “Love you too,” I whisper. 

Clara looks over her shoulder. “This place is… interestin’, huh?” 

“That’s a word for it,” he says, breaking his gaze with me. “Clara, can I have a moment with Bonnie, please?” 

She pales. “Um, yeah. Sure. Bye, Clyde.” He watches as she walks back towards the front of the cell compound where we checked in. 

“Baby, I’m sorry I brought her. She wanted to come-” I start. 

“It’s fine,” he says, his voice lower than before. “Nice to see an old friend. But listen, I figured you ought to know.”

“Know what?” I touch his cheek again. “Somethin’ wrong?” 

He sighs. “Not anymore, that is. All I’m sayin’ is that there’s a fair chance I just got myself in a whirlwind ‘a more trouble if anybody finds out. Scalley took it for now, but...” 

“Finds out what? Clyde, you ain’t makin’ any sense.” 

“I-”

He’s cut off by the cop strutting up behind me. I can sense his presence, making me shiver. I’m starting to hate these laws. More than I already did, that is. 

“I think you love birds’ve visited long enough,” he says, his fingers in his belt loops. 

I groan silently. “Alright, fine.” I peck Clyde’s forehead. “See you later, baby.”

He nods. “See ya.” 

When I walk down the hall, it isn’t without that knot of dread in my stomach. Clara’s pacing in the front room once I pass all the security checks and stuff. She sees me and sighs in relief. 

“God, I was worryin’,” she says. “Everythin’ okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” I avert her eyes. Whatever Clyde was trying to say, something is definitely not fine. 

We make our way to the car and the moment I’m turning out of the prison, Clara smirks. “So when’s y’all’s weddin’ gonna be?” 

“What?” I look at her with a chuckle. “Where’d you go gettin’ that idea?” 

“Oh please, did you see how he looked at you? He’s so in love with you, Bonnie. Did he say anythin’ about it?” 

“No.” I sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He was all cryptic and I know he was tryin’ to tell me somethin’ without actually sayin’ the words and now I’m beyond confused.” 

“Odd.” She bites her lip. “He’s always been that way, kinda keepin’ to himself. But let me tell you, he’s had plenty of girls. Yet he ain’t  _ ever _ , and I mean ever, acted towards them like he does to you. God, he rarely kissed them like he does to you, gazed at ‘em, said he  _ loved _ ‘em. Keep that in mind.”

I can’t help but crack a little grin. “Well, I love him too.” 

She leans back against the seat. “Trust me, all ‘a Dallas has figured that out by now.” 

I laugh. Which I really needed. 

After dropping Clara off at her home, I retreat to the back porch. I sit in the rocking chair with my notebook in my lap, tryin’ to figure out how to end my poem about Clyde. 

_ Then out of the East arose the sound _

_ Of hoof-beats with the dawn _

_ And Billy pulled his rein and said _

_ I must be moving on _

_ And out of the West came the glare of a light _

_ And the drone of a motor's song _

_ And Barrow set his foot on the gas _

_ And shouted back, "So long" _

_ So into the East, Clyde Barrow rode _

_ And Billy, into the West _

_ The living man who can know no peace _

_ And the dead who can know no rest _

I look over at the setting sun and smile. I wish Clyde was sitting beside me. That’d be just perfect. We’d be a great little family. Maybe we outta get a dog someday. A real shaggy one, the kind that just sits on the rug and sleeps all day. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind that. 

My mama comes out and sits in the chair across from me, a real smug look on her face. I quickly close my notebook and clutch it to my chest. She flashes me a paper. 

“You read the headlines lately?” she asks. 

I nod. “I saw Clyde after it all. He’s just fine.”

“Mh.” She looks at it and then back at me. “Might wanna read the fine print, Bon’. Your pretty boy ain’t gonna seem so pretty no more.”

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. She holds it out to me and I take it. “I’ma go now, leave you alone to mull this over.” She sighs and kisses the top of my head. “Judgement, remember? Never forget that.” 

The screen door bounces once before shutting completely when she leaves. I eye the paper in my lap suspiciously. I don’t know what to expect. 

The worst? I suppose I should anticipate the worse. But what is the worst? Honest to God, what could be worse than what’s already happening?

I flick open the paper and start to read the article with shaking hands. 

Even in my wildest dreams, I was not expecting  _ this  _ to be the worst. It’s something you could only pick out if you knew Clyde yourself. He’s been beat on by the cops obviously, but I also knew the other side of the story. Had to coax it out of him slowly, bit by bit. 

He had said there was this ‘Ed’ guy who was, and I quote, “giving him grief.” That translated to him being the reason Clyde’s so beat up all the time. The cops couldn’t do all that and get away with it. That’s crazy impossible. 

And as all these little pieces fall together, including the brief mention he made of the suspected culprit, I come to the realization. 

_ Clyde’s a murderer. _


	12. Chapter Twelve

-Chapter Twelve-

* * *

_ October 30th, 1931 _

I stare at the cracking paint on the ceiling as I try to sleep. It’s been hours since my realization, but it still feels like a new idea. The newspaper claims it was this Aubrey Scalley.

Bullshit.

This is what he was trying to tell me. And I don’t like it one bit. I feel like I took part in the crime, like I’m all bad and crooked. More than already, that is. I feel like I’m not me anymore. Like I don’t belong in my own skin. And I’m absolutely terrified of what Clyde’s becoming. Or has already become. 

Now I really gotta get him out. The sooner he’s out, the sooner life’ll go back to normal. Clara had told me that I should try and get Clyde a job at the glass place Liam works at. And I think it’s a lovely idea. 

What I’m going to do to make that happen, I don’t know. But I know I have to try. 

I’ve never written a parole letter before. And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say. Clyde’s mama sure seems to know a thing or two, however. 

I crawl out of bed and grab a box of matches. I strike one against the box and watch it burn. The fire wobbles and then dies out. My tired eyes blink slowly, trying to comprehend the flicker of light that just disappeared. I fetch a candle and strike another match, lighting the candle before it can go out.

The flame casts dancing shadows around my room. I used to be scared of ‘em, thought they looked like spirits or devils, some sort of monster. Now I think they’re beautiful. And that we, Clyde and I, are the monsters. 

I pull out my notebook to write a quick draft of a parole letter. A general idea to show his mama when I see her next week. My pen scratches on the page, the familiar sound I love. Because usually when it scratches, I’m in the most romantic mood and I’m about to paint a beautiful picture of words about my lover. 

But today ain’t like that. 

_ Gov. Sterling: _

_ I write to you concerning a pardon for Clyde Champion Barrow, inmate number 63527. I ask that you conclude his original fourteen-year-sentence at two years.  _

I immediately scoff and toss my notebook on the end of the mattress. This is hopeless. And pathetic. I only hope Mrs. Barrow has a better idea. 

I stare at the twirling and wavering shadows, imagining them as people on a dance floor. Clyde and I included. We sway, we dance, he dips me and I laugh. 

But that laughter is cut off by the sound of bullets. I duck my head into my knees and take a shaky breath. It’s a silly fantasy, never to amount to anything. Any thought I have is streaked red with the blood of the man Clyde killed. 

And I try to tell myself that as soon as this is all blown over, he’s outta jail and in my arms, that I’ll never have to worry about this crime business again. 

Though deep down, I don’t believe a lick ‘a that.

I wobble over to my dresser and dig around for the bottle of whiskey. And I tip it back. 

\---

As I walk up to the door of the Barrow residence, I feel like I’m being haunted. There’s these phantom tentacles, no longer just Roy’s, clawing at me, trying to drag me into the dirt. The weight of Clyde’s crime sags my shoulders and makes me want to cry. Because I feel like I don’t know him anymore. 

I need him so much right now. I need his embrace, his soft kisses. I need to know that we’re still  _ us _ , Bonnie and Clyde. And that even though he’s slaughtered a man, he’s still my same lover. 

But I can’t count on that. And that fact scares me. 

His mama opens the door when I knock and I plaster on a smile for her. “Hello, Mrs. Barrow,” I say. 

“Oh please, call me Cumie.” 

I nod with a smile. She lets me in the small house that is much like mine, cluttered with unpaid bills. I wonder if Clyde’s a family person like I am. I’d do anything for Mama and Billie. Maybe he’s the same way. 

“Coffee?” she offers. 

“Oh, no, I’m alright.” 

We sit at the family’s little dining room table and I see that she has many papers set before her. She’s been working on this for a while. I’m already anxious. 

“So… shall we get to it?” she asks.

“Why not?” I grin. Cumie loads the typewriter with paper as I shuffle through his arrest warrants and other paperwork.

“I spoke to a lawyer,” she says, “and he’s crafted a lovely plea.”

“Great. I’m sure after all that brutality he faced, we can really tug on the governor’s heartstrings.”

She nods and hands me the outline of the points we have to make in our letter. When I read through it, my lips press harder and harder into a thin line. It’s all a big, fat lie. Every bit of it’s a fabricated tale of woes for a widow who needs her only, seventeen-year-old son’s wages to keep her afloat. 

I clear my throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s twenty-two, right?” 

“My lawyer found it best that we say he’s a teenager. Government’s usually easier on teens.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Right. And… your husband… He’s alive, yes? Because if there’s news I never heard, I am terribly sorry-”

“Oh, no. He’s perfectly fine.”

“Um, alright then. Didn’t you say that Clyde had siblings?”

“Miss Parker, this isn’t gonna be an easy plea if we keep all the facts straight.” She gesticulates as she talks. “There’s overcrowdin’ in the jails and if we get a pretty little story put together, the governor’s gonna just let him go real nice and easy.”

I look at her like she’s speaking Spanish. “I-” 

This is for Clyde. And if I gotta fake it ‘til I make it, I’ma do just that. 

“Of course. It’s a genius idea.” I fold my hands in my lap, completely overwhelmed on the inside. “My friend Clara has a husband workin’ at this glass place and he thinks he could get Clyde a job there. Maybe havin’ a workin’ position would add some more leeway for us.”

“Now there’s an idea!” She smiles at me. “It’s like you’ve been doin’ this your whole life.”

God, I’m so glad I haven’t. This is a stressful, deceitful business I don’t want to be a part of. 

When we’ve got a pretty little fairy tale all typed up, I go over it about a dozen times, making mental marks of each fabrication. I get to eleven. There is too much falsity in this. But I seal it up to be mailed anyhow. 

Since we’re mailing it just before the holidays, it’s likely we’ll be waiting a good while before we get a response. And I’m hoping that the governor ain’t smart enough to look at any records or else we gonna be in a world of trouble. 

The moment I get out the door, I light up a cigarette. The smoke twirls around my head as the tip glows red and orange, like the hell I’m trying to climb out of. I look at the Barrow’s gas station for a long moment before I start walking home, dust caking my Mary Janes along Eagle Ford Road. 

Halfway through walking home, I decide I might as well just mail the damn thing now. I turn to the left, towards downtown. It’s an early-November, Sunday afternoon. Nothing much is happening in quiet West Dallas. I like the peace. I used to hate it, but every day I like the stillness and predictability more and more. 

I’ve fallen in love with this lifestyle I have planned. I don’t mind the diner, not with Clara and Marigold there with me. Clyde and I can just exist in peace. Live and die with nothing else to bother us. 

I drop the letter into the slot and listen for the sound it makes when it falls on the stack of other letters. No turning back now. I linger for a moment after sending the lies down the chute. A part of me wants to claw it out of there and tear it to shreds, replacing it with the truth. 

But that’s the good part of me. And a different, more crooked part of me trumps that. My love for Clyde and my adoration for my dream makes my feet turn. 

I walk home, trying to forget all I’ve done to get to this point. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

-Chapter Thirteen-

* * *

_ January 23rd, 1932 _

“Any news about Clyde?” Clara asks as I pick up dirty dishes resting on a table. She turns up her nose before wiping down a slimy countertop. 

I sigh. “Nope. I saw him back near Christmas. He’s losin’ ‘is mind. I would be too."

"You’ve been real strong for ‘im, though.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Strong’s what I’ve been.” I balance dirty plates in my hands and make my way to the kitchen with her on my heels. 

“Clyde’d be proud of ya, Bonnie. You’ve been a trooper since I met ya in high school.”

“When’d you meet Clyde? I remember you sayin’ it was through school.”

“Oh, we were prim'ry school buddies, ‘fore I moved here that is. Seems he followed me not long after.”

“Huh. I didn’t know Clyde moved around.”

“Used to live out in Ellis.” She sighs. “Then all this happened.”

“How’s Liam and that job of ‘is?”

Clara reaches for the sponge resting beside the sink. “Fine. He’s positive they’ll hire Clyde.”

“Thank God. Seems like it’s all turnin’ ‘round now. Well, that’s if this damn letter comes. Bitin' my nails over it."

“I don’t see what’s takin’ it so long.” She scoffs a little, gesticulating with sudsy hands. “Governor must be as lazy as President Hoover.”

I snort. “I wonder if anythin’s ever gonna go back to normal.”

“Hopefully.” 

We wash the dishes as we talk about all sorts of domestic things. Keeps my mind off the encroaching weight of the slow post. I don’t know what I would do without her. We’ve been each other’s crutch seen we was fifteen. And I’d hate to lose her. We’d both go crazy. 

When my god-awful shift is finally over, I make my way over to the Barrows’. At first, I didn’t bother them. But come January, I stop by quite often to see if they’ve got a response. 

I drive up in front of their home just as Cumie’s fetching the mail. I roll down the window and peek out at her. She looks at me and smiles, waving an envelope. I practically tumble out the car window. 

She runs up to the window as she tears open the letter. Both our hands are shaking. 

“You read it,” she says. 

“No, you’re his mama,” I insist. 

“And you’re his girl. I can’t bring myself to read it.”

I bite my lip as I take the letter. “ _ Dear Cumie Barrow, we have taken your request into consideration- _ ”

We both gasp and our eyes widen. I continue with a racing heart. 

“ _ And we have come to the conclusion that Clyde Champion Barrow shall be released February 2nd! _ ”

I shriek and drop the letter, my hands flying to my mouth. She clutches her hand to her heart and I worry that she’s had a heart attack.

When the pure shock has worn off, I have on my mind one thing and one thing only: seeing Clyde again. I tick off the days on my fingers, ten days. Ten days and he’s mine again. 

Cumie goes off to her husband and I go home to tell my family and plan to tell Clara tomorrow at work. I practically barrel through the front door, clutching the letter. Billie and Mama are sitting in the living room, both knitting. 

“He’s comin’ home!” I exclaim, red-faced. 

Billie shrieks and jumps to her feet, hugging me. I squeeze her tightly as we both laugh. Mama joins the hug afterward, but based on the look on her face, she’s got some choice words for me. 

When we pull out of the hug she stares at me for a while. “When’s he gettin’ out?”

“Late next week.” I smile, clutching the letter to my heart. 

“Invite him for dinner or somethin’. I want to get to know this boy. He ain’t got the best track record. I’m tellin’ ya, the  _ moment _ he left you on our doorstep, I got a bad feelin’ about him.”

“Mama, he’s fine.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. It’s only a matter of time ‘fore he changes his mind.”

I cross my arms. “Why do you have no faith in him?”

She sighs. “Once a con, always a con.”

Billie shakes her head slowly in disagreement. “How ‘bout you and I go and start dinner, Bonnie?”

“Alright,” I mutter. She could tell we were practically about to be at each other’s throats. I love my mama, but I just don’t believe what she’s saying. Clyde’s gonna be good now. 

How could he not be?

\---

Clara was over the moon when I told her, as was Marigold. Even our cook, Ralph, was a little happy for me. The days had been blending together into this sad grey mush lately, but now each second stood out as a second closer to getting my Clyde back. I just want to hold him, and see his face, and be able to watch him laugh again. I want to tug on his sweet little ears and listen to him talk and just hear him say my name over and over again while he strokes my hair, combing through the curls I let down. Just to be his again. 

I work extra hours, practically every second so I can save a tad to get  some good ingredients for a nice, hearty meal when he comes home. I’m thinking a pie and some red beans and rice with all the fixin’s. 

When February rolls around, I’m practically counting each minute as it passes. His bus is coming in at noon. I wanted to pick him up myself, but I figured they probably wouldn’t let me do that. 

Clara volunteers to take my shift for me so I can go see him. I’m up before dawn on the 2nd, pacing my bedroom. I think through what I’m gonna say, how I’m gonna greet him. 

Mama told me a few days back that I needed to calm down before I worked myself sick. And I don’t blame her. I was going mad, just a little. I took a sip of my secret whiskey. 

In all the mania of trying to collect myself so I could drive my car without crashing it, I almost burned myself with the cigarette pinched between my teeth. I take a few deep breaths and start the car. I need to know when to cap the bottle. Especially if I'm going to be driving. Clyde always seemed to have that sense. 

When I get there, it’s ten-thirty in the morning. I couldn’t help myself. I pass time by simply staring at the clouds moving outside the car window. Each minute feels like an eternity. I’m thoroughly convinced God paused time, just to watch me squirm under the weight of waiting. 

The clock on the wall of the bus station by the ticket window says 12:01. I bang my head against the dashboard and groan. It was silly of me to think that he’d be exactly on time. 

_ 12:02 _

_ 12:03 _

_ 12:04 _

_ 12:05 _

I watch the minute hand tick. With each movement, my heart sinks a little more. What if something happened to the bus? He could be lying dead under some old rickety bridge and I’d have no idea. I light another cigarette to have something to do. 

My face is buried in my knees as I rock back and forth. The anxiety is eating away at me like acid and I feel like I’m burning up. Every breath I take feels like it’s gonna be my last. For February, Texas sure has outdone itself with this humidity. I can feel my dress sticking to me. It's absolutely stifling. 

_ 12:09 _

_ 12:10 _

_ 12:11 _

The sound of a motor makes my head snap up. A blue and white bus is cruising down the road towards me. I gasp and fix my hair in the rearview mirror. When I’m satisfied that my curls are tamed, I smooth out the wrinkles in my dress and open the car door. 

Clyde’s bus eases its way here like it’s got all the time in the world. I swear if I wait one more second I’m going to melt into the ground or whither away. 

Each person steps out of the bus, stretching after the five-hour ride. I scan each one’s face, my smile quivering at each one that isn’t his. There aren’t many people here, but the ones who are have quite beautiful reunions with the passengers. 

Just as I’m about to give up, an emaciated little body appears in the bus’s doorway like an angel descending down the steps of Heaven. 

It’s my Clyde. 

_ Tap, step. Tap, step. Tap, step. _

Clyde hobbles down the stairs on a crutch. It makes my face twist with concerned confusion as I rush to him, politely pushing past people. 

Scared, hollow, empty eyes stare at me for a while. And then something regesters. 

“Bonnie!” he exclaims as I come up to the steps. 

I hold out my hand to him. “Darling!” He takes it and I help him down carefully. 

Clyde uses my skinny frame for support as his weight rests all on his right foot. The left one's bandaged and hovering over the dusty road. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him desperately, like my life depends on it. It feels like it does. Like every slow second of the past two years have been building up to this moment. 

“I missed you so much,” I whine. 

“I missed you too, sugar.” He buries his face in my hair and kisses the top of my head. "I missed you somethin' awful."

I clutch the fabric of his shirt between my fingers as I stain his shoulder with tears of joy. Of pure relief. Two years is a lifetime. So much can happen in just those twenty-four months. 

He inches out of the way of the bus’s door and I help him make his way towards my car. He hobbles on his crutch while I carry his bag of the few possessions he could have in there. 

When we’re out of the way of all the people, I pull him into another kiss, just to be sure he’s still there and I’m not having a dream again. The pressure of Clyde’s lips against mine is enough to remind me. That and the feeling of his fine hair against my fingers, his hand on my waist. Clyde's _home._

He’s in my arms and he’s mine forever. He ain’t ever gonna leave me again. We’re gonna start fresh, turn over a new leaf. Clyde Barrow ain’t ever going back to prison. 

I slowly pull away from him and smile. “Let’s get you home, baby.”

He nods and I take his hands to steady him. Clyde drops the crutch and I help him to the door. He leans against the side while I open the door. After a struggle to get him up there, I shut it. I put the crutch and his duffle in the backseat before sliding behind the wheel. 

It takes a lot of self-control not to sit here and kiss him dizzy. But the pie’s gonna take a few hours and I gotta get it started if I want it to be ready in time for supper. And I’m sure he’s tired as anything. 

“So the hell happened to your foot?” I tease as I start the old clunky car.

“Ah, well, I tried to get transferred to kitchen work instead ‘a them back-breaking fields.”

“And  _ how _ did you go about that?”

“Chopped off two toes.” 

“I shouldn't've asked.” I ruffle his hair and he glares. 

“Damn, did I miss you.” 

He wraps his arm around my waist and I crack a smile. 

I rest my head on his shoulder. “My mama invited you over for dinner tonight. I’m making a buttermilk pie and some red beans. Now I'm sure you want to see your fam-”

“Mh, sounds lovely.” He kisses the top of my head, a very obvious interruption. And change of topic. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to express how much I love you, Bonnie. And… it means a lot that you, well… that you got me out.”

His voice is wobbly and it makes me look over at him instead of the road for a moment. “Hon’, what’s the matter?” 

He glances at me and then the window. “Lot’s happened. Lot I’d like to forget. And that’s damn near impossible. You’re all I got in the world and if I lost you it’d be the death of me.”

I squeeze his hand. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’ma be by your side forever 'n' ever. I promise.”

He sighs. “You know I was gonna come back for you, right? Never in my wildest dreams would I ever just leave you.”

My heart just about melts when he says that. It’s all I ever wanted from him. I needed him to promise that he was never gonna just pack his bags and give up on me. On  _ us _ . 

He becomes less and less like Roy every day. I made a real good choice with my Clyde. Any fear of losing him is completely gone. And the fear of _him_ is squashed by that love. 

He could kill a dozen men and I'd still love him. 

No, I don't want him to. 

But I’d still adore him to pieces. 

I am his Bonnie and he is my Clyde. 

We’re gonna ride until we die. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

-Chapter Fourteen-

* * *

_ February 2nd, 1932 _

Clyde grips my arm as I help him to the front door. I kiss his cheek before opening it. Billie’s not back from work yet and Mama must be on the porch because it is as quiet as a mouse in our little home. I lead my limping lover inside and shut the door behind us. 

“Why don’t you sit on the couch?” I tell him softly. 

He nods and goes towards the fading sofa as I drop his bag by the door. I make sure he’s set on the couch before I walk to the back porch in search of Mama. And of course, I was right. She’s rocking back in forth in the chair, a Bible in her lap. 

“We’re home,” I say as I lean against the wall, the screen door closing behind me. 

“Mh,” she murmurs. “You ever read James 1:15, Bonnie?”

“Long while ago, probably.”

She nods. “I think you’d find it to be quite the interestin’ read....”

I sigh. “Whatcha want me to do, join a convent and shout praises to the Heavens?”

“I’ma just sayin’.” She holds her hands up in defense. 

“Yeah, alright. I don’t want to leave him sitting on the couch all on ‘is own.”

She scoffs. “You don’t trust ‘im either, huh?” 

I glare at her. “I don’t want him to be sitting all lonely when he’s been doin’ that for two years, Mama. Why don’t you come and join us?”

She sighs and closes her Bible. I smile to myself as I turn back to Clyde. He’s sitting up straight like he’s got a board shoved down his shirt with his hands folded in his lap. 

I rest my hands on his shoulders from behind and kiss the top of his head, letting my lips linger. “You can relax, you know? Mama ain’t gonna shoot you or anythin’.” 

“I want her to like me.” 

I chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you care about her likin’ you.” 

Roy ain’t half the man Clyde is. I don’t think he’s even a quarter of him. They can’t even be compared. It’s a completely different stratosphere. 

I walk around and sit beside him. He pulls me closer to him and I giggle. When he’s satisfied with me being settled beside him he smiles very slightly. 

“You’s got somethin’ on your mind,” he says. “What is it?”

“Lot’s.” I wrap my arm around his neck and gently fit my mouth to his for a moment. Our lips still brush when I speak next, in a very hushed voice. “I know what you did. Back in October.”

He grips my waist tighter, his fingers pressed into the flowy fabric of my dress. “And what’cha gotta say about it?” he whispers. 

“Was he hurtin’ you?” 

He scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

I gaze into his eyes. “More power to ya, then. Let the bastard burn in hell.” I kiss him again. “I trust your judgment. If it was you or him then that’s how it’s gonna have to be, huh?” 

“I suppose.” Clyde sighs and brushes a piece of hair out of my face. “I’ve never paid too much attention, always been too caught up in how great ya are, but you are real damn pretty.” 

I chuckle. “Thanks. You’re quite handsome yourself.” 

He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m so obsessed with you, my Bonnie.”

“You do know that I'd go with you to the ends of the earth-” 

Mama clears her throat and I look up, leaning out of Clyde’s lap that I had somehow made my way into. “Um, Mama, this is Clyde Barrow,” I say hoarsely. 

She nods. “Emma Parker.”

Clyde holds out his right hand for her to shake. “I’d stand, but I’m in a bit of a predicament here, ma’am.” He gestures to his foot.

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” She shakes his hand. 

I can tell by the way they look at each other that there’s an odd rift between them. It was only two years ago that he showed up at our home, saying he had to go before cops caught him. And Mama and Billie then had to clean up all the sobbing aftermath. 

“My sister oughta be home from work soon. She’s got herself a job workin’ at this dress place,” I tell Clyde. “And I should probably get a start on dinner if it’s gonna be ready at a good hour.” I kiss Clyde’s cheek discretely. “Why don’t you and my mama get to know each other?” 

I know it’s a poor idea, but I don’t know what else to say. All I really want is for them to get along. How hard does this have to be? 

Mama and Clyde nod and I stand up from the couch. I make my way to the kitchen. After taking out all the ingredients, I busy myself with making the flaky pie crust. I listen in on Mama and Clyde. 

Billie comes home as I’m plating the beans and rice. I smile at her when she comes through the door. She hangs her purse and coat with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“So where is he?” she asks as she leans against the kitchen table. 

“Back in the livin’ room.” I jerk my head towards the doorway out of the kitchen. “But I’m comin’ with ya.”

I wipe my hands on my apron and slip it off before leading her across the hall to our odd little parlor. Clyde’s still situated on the couch still and my mama has found herself a comfy seat in her favorite armchair. 

“Clyde, this is my sister, Billie,” I tell him, gesturing between the two. 

He nods. “I remember you,” he says as he shakes her hand. 

She chuckles. “Yes, and you're the asshole-stud.” 

"Seems that way."

“Um, I’ve got dinner just about ready if y’all wanna come. I’ll help you there, baby.” I hold out my hands and he takes them. Billie ducks out of the way and I pull him to his feet. Or foot, I should say. 

He grips my shoulders as he tries to find his balance. “What happened?” Billie asks. “If you don’t mind me askin’.”

“Naw, it’s alright. Bit of a, um, accident.” He chuckles. “Got two toes knocked off.”

“Ouch.” She grimaces. 

She passes him the crutch resting against the arm of the chair and he slips it under his armpit. I help him maneuver around the couch and my family, him, and I make our way to the table. 

“How long did they say you’d be on crutches?” I ask. 

“They didn’t. Probably a week or two, if I’m lucky.” 

I sigh. “Such a shame. You think you’s gonna be limping for a while?” 

“Probably forever. Drivin’ll be interesting.”

I chuckle. “You can just drive in your socks.” 

“Not funny, sugar.” He kisses my temple. 

I help him into a chair before resting his crutch in the corner. Billie helps me get the plates on the table. We all sit around him, me next to Clyde. Mama and Billie are across from us. Billie shields one side of her face so Clyde can’t see and mouths,

“ _ He really is a stud _ !”

I glare. She chuckles silently and I roll my eyes. We all unfold our napkins and Clyde squeezes my knee under the table. I bite my lip to hide the smile. 

“This is…  _ really _ good,” Clyde says after we’ve all tucked into the food. 

“Thank you.” I grin at him. Butterflies congregate in my stomach. 

“So, have you got yourself an idea about a job?” Mama asks. 

“Well, not exactly, no,” Clyde murmurs. 

“Course, he did just get out,” Billie says, looking at our mother. “Give ‘im  a moment’s rest.”

“Um, Clara’s husband works at this glass place,” I say, “and he thinks he can get you a job there. You ever met Liam?” 

“I was at the wedding,” he says. 

My eyes widen. “So was I! Oh my Lord, I wonder if I saw you ever.”

He chuckles. “Maybe.”

I smile as I look back at my plate, poking my favorite food with my fork. “Anyhow, I think it’d be good. Don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m just as interested in goin’ straight as you are.”

“Good. We’re gonna keep it that way.” I kiss his cheek. “I can’t take two more years.”

“Believe me, neither can I.”

\---

_"Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death."_

_\- James 1:15 KJV_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

-Chapter Fifteen-

* * *

_ February 2nd, 1932 _

After dropping Clyde off at his home, a slightly tearful goodbye ensuing, I sat in my room with his pardon letter, the newspaper from October and from March of 1930, when he escaped, and three photos. One of him, one of me, and his mugshot that Cumie gave me. 

I cut out the newspaper articles about the Ed Crowder murder and lay them flat on my bed. My gaze flicks from the ink telling of his crimes to the blank paper pages I have set before me. I paste the two pictures of us to one page, writing the date they were taken below each one. 

On the next page, I arrange the mugshot and news articles, writing notes below them. When I’m satisfied with my work, I collect the other blank pages and arrange them like a book. On the first page, I write in my neat and pretty scrawl simply, 

_ The Story of Bonnie and Clyde _

I then remember the poem I wrote about him. I find my notebook and transcribe the poem onto a fresh page. I title it “Outlaws." A smile tugs at my lips as I arrange the papers again. 

My mama gave me this scrapbooking kit when I got married. She said it was "to keep all the good memories love can bring." I never used it for Roy because I could count the good memories on one hand. But now I can make Clyde and me a book of all our little adventures. I’m certain that I’ll fill pages and pages with photos and memorabilia of the many years to come. 

The candlelight wobbles, casting those dancing shadows. The silhouettes look like a man and a woman, close together, a baby in the woman’s arms. I smile. But as soon as I do, the image shifts to something much different. The same man and woman, guns in hand, the woman pointing a shotgun at the man. 

I shiver and look away from the wall, back at the scrapbook. If my mind’s putting together these little waking nightmares, they should at least be accurate. Never in a million years would I shoot Clyde. 

A groan escapes my lips as I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I take a few deep breaths before deciding to finish up this little book. I take the threaded needle and tug it through the perforated holes in the paper. After binding it tightly, I kiss the corner of the cover, leaving a lipstick print. 

When I’m just about to pass out from the tiredness trying to pull me into slumber, I set the book at the bottom of my chest of things, underneath my Sunday dress and work uniform. I wipe off my lipstick, brush my hair, and change into the soft white chemise I sleep in. As I lay in bed, I rest my hand on the extra space beside me. 

I fall asleep to the dream of waking up to Clyde’s face inches from mine. What a life that would be. We’d smile at each other over the rims of our coffee mugs and play with that shaggy dog. A little baby could sit in her daddy’s lap as we coo to her. Wouldn't that would be golden? 

But some inkling of dread, something I try to push away, tells me that ain’t gonna happen. I’m never gonna get to see Clyde dozing on the couch in his socks or be able to teach our children to talk and walk and know right from wrong. 

However, I know one thing. I’m sure gonna try to make it happen. 


End file.
